


Electric Sheep

by MintyElectronica



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Androids, Artificial Intelligence, Character Death, Chobits but with Pokémon, Cyberpunk, Doing Stupid Things and Saving the World, Dubious Science, Dystopia, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fun Times with the He Who Must Not Be Seen Trope, Future Fic, Gen, Nuzlocke Challenge, Pokemon Journey, Robot Uprising, Robots, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 223,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintyElectronica/pseuds/MintyElectronica
Summary: In the future, trainers in Unova travel along Disneyfied safe routes accompanied by android companions and automaton Pokémon. The fakeness of Unova's gym circuit disgusts Door Hornbeam enough to keep her from leaving home, but when she saves a mysterious young man, the amnesiac Geist, from a mugging-in-progress, she's thrust into a journey filled with conspiracies involving her family's past, a long-dead scientific genius, and the androids she despises.





	1. Nuvema

Rabbit warren. That was what this kind of city felt like. All tall buildings and dark alleys—winding, twisting paths lined with brick and glass. Deep shadows, cast in part by the dull gray of the sprawling rain clouds overhead, filled spaces between apartments and offices. Murky, brown puddles sat stagnant on streets and sidewalks, and the air felt heavy yet cold and wet.

Brown. A flash of brown tore through the maze of streets, feet splashing into muddy puddles haphazardly. He took twists and turns whenever he could in his mad dash to anywhere-but-here. Every so often, he glanced back, his brown eyes wide and panicked. His arms wrapped tighter and tighter around his silver briefcase whenever he caught a glimpse of something other than brick and glass and fog.

Black. Streaks of black darted into and out of alleys and vaulted off rooftops. The streak on the ground wore a wide smile and aqua braids. The one in the air wore nothing but darkness.

Laughter. The woman with aqua braids cackled despite the run, despite the cold and the effort she put into keeping a steady distance behind her quarry. She was gaining on him. He knew.

Turn. Three turns—one left and two right—carried him deeper and deeper into the maze. Each one separated him from Aqua Braids, but he knew that no matter how many turns he took, he had to keep going. She was still behind him.

A voice.

“Run all you want, you obsolete piece of trash! You can’t shake us!” Aqua Braids shouted.

Brick. He stopped abruptly, staring at the wall directly in front of him. Swiveling around, he backed up until his body pressed against it. No doors. No windows. No escape. He glanced up to see the black figure perched on the edge of the high rise to his left. He glanced forward to see the woman with aqua braids rounding a corner and blocking him in. His arms tightened around the case a little more.

“That was fun, but I’m tired of running now,” the girl said as she strolled forward. She extended a hand to him. “Hand the case over, or this is gonna be painful.” 

As if to punctuate that thought, the figure on the roof jumped down.

—

It was raining. Not hard, of course. Softly—the kind of rain that fell as a thin mist, the kind that clung to a person and sank into their bones. It was a gray rain on Nuvema City, and the puddles were shallow beneath the twisting vines and trees that crowded around the walls of colored glass. On the streets of Nuvema, people bustled from building to building, umbrellas formed a colored forest beneath the canopies formed by the trees planted in every spare corner of the city, pokémon—mostly lillipup and other dog-like monsters—ran alongside humans on jeweled leashes, and somewhere just above the canopy of umbrellas, a phone rang.

Its owner sat on the edge of a brick wall, one chubby leg dangling over its side. She shoved her pale hands into the pockets of her brown, fleece hoodie, and she bent her face low so the rain would fall onto her clothing instead of her round features. In the pocket of her hoodie, her holo caster buzzed and sang, and when her ringtone looped for the second time, she groaned and pulled the device out. Using one hand to shield the thin, palm-sized piece of glass, she squinted at the screen to read the name: Dad.

“Not this again,” she muttered.

This was fifteen-year-old Doreen Hornbeam, better known to her friends as Door. Like many of her peers, she was old enough to go on her own journey, but unlike many of her peers, she chose not to go at ten years of age. She had her reasons. Many reasons, but mostly, they involved the fact that she knew that almost all of the pokémon on the street weren’t real. None of the ones in the region were real—or, at least, very few of them were. After decades of human development, there just wasn’t enough space for them anymore, and that was why the Unovan government, inspired by the gardens of Kalos, started experimenting with green programs and eco-friendly urban development five years ago. That was why there was a fledgling forest in every space of Nuvema City now. That was why the government was developing fauna reintroduction programs. And most importantly, that was why all trainers were restricted to a set track, on which they could only catch and train android pokémon. It was all fake, all for show, all to placate the people.

And Door would have exactly none of that.

Just as she was highly reluctant to have whatever it was her father was going to dump on her this time.

Tapping the glass, she held the holo caster out and let a miniature image of her father materialize before her. She gave it the most bored expression she could muster, knowing full well that her father would be unlikely to notice.

“Door!” he exclaimed. “Door, where are you?” 

“Running errands for Professor Ironwood. I’m working today, remember?” she answered.

It was a blatant lie. The errands part, at least. Door _did_ have to work that day, but Professor Ironwood hardly noticed the absences of her assistant’s assistant. Still, on occasion, the excuse made her father get off the line quicker than he would normally … but unfortunately, this was not one of those times.

Fortunately, however, it was one of those times when her father didn’t care about her work schedule to begin with.

“Well, tell Bianca I need you back home ASAP,” he said. “It’s super-important, pumpkaboo! I’ve figured it out!” 

Without another word, his image blinked out of existence, and the glass dimmed. Door screwed her face up in frustration and tapped on the glass. It flared to life, presenting her with a list of her recent calls, and she had half a mind to call her father back and tell him off. But she didn’t. Instead, she shoved the holo caster back into her pocket and hopped off the brick wall. She hit the ground with both feet, and the wetness of the puddle she had landed in seeped through her gray sneakers. With a curse, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants and started for home.

The truth was that Door didn’t mind Nuvema City. Nine years had passed since she moved from Hoenn, and because of that, she had only vague memories of what it was like living halfway across the world. But the few parts of it she could remember made her restless: the sun, the smell of fresh-cut grass, real pokémon flying overhead. Unova wasn’t as dirty as it had been five years ago, but it didn’t feel right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt like she didn’t belong there—like she was meant to do something else and be somewhere else. And that nagging feeling grew into a thirst for adventure, which in turn grew into a need to go on a journey.

But it wouldn’t be the same. That was the problem. It would never be the same because everywhere one went in Unova, there were barriers, artificial forests, fake pokémon. All of it was just pretend—one giant theme park for the self-proclaimed eco-friendly hipsters and rich kids to indulge in. And maybe Door was a little self-righteous about that; even she admitted that she might be. But the idea of giving in and going on a journey through an amusement park? To her, it wouldn’t be a journey.

Never mind the nanny. As Door rounded the corner and let that thought sink in, she shuddered. The pokémon and the routes weren’t the only things that were fake in that region. Looking up at the crowds, she understood she wouldn’t be able to spot _them_ at first glance. But she knew they were there. She knew because the things she dreaded were exactly what put food on the table for her family. They were why her mother was in Castelia City, hammering out details for a new operating system. And besides the Pokémon Bank and Hoenn storage system, they were why anyone knew her family at all.

They were the Companions. Androids, to be precise. Designed to look human in almost every way—even act like them, in the newer models’ cases. Rumor had it that one in five people owned one, and Door knew that at least in Nuvema City, hotbed of trainer activity, that rumor might as well have been true. Everyone who wanted to be a trainer had to have a Companion, not by law but by practice. The safe zones, the crime-free routes between cities where artificial pokémon “lived,” were far, far easier to navigate with a Companion’s built-in map system. Besides, Companions were equipped with a whole range of bells and whistles that made life easier for a trainer.

Or, in Door’s opinion, they were equipped with a range of bells and whistles that kept trainers reined in at all times. After all, the other function a Companion had was to enforce those physical boundaries the League set on each route by way of offering helpful advice and strong coaxing. They were electric babysitters, in other words.

To top it all off, the latest models of Companion were virtually indistinguishable from their human users except in one minor detail: their eyes. The irises were all wrong. Reflective sometimes. Glowing at others. And obviously glass and metal upon closer inspection. But unless one stood close to a Companion, even that detail was difficult to spot. And that was the problem. How could a person trust someone if they didn’t even know whether or not that someone was real?

So, looking at the countless people on the streets, Door squinted at the people she passed. Which were real? Which were fake? She knew that it shouldn’t have mattered, but it bothered her to no end. Just the thought of someone—some _thing_ —staring at her, recording her, storing her image in some kind of internal database … it sent shivers up her spine.

Because of that, she did what anyone in her situation would do: she took the next right into a warren of emptier side streets.

Door stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets and fixed her eyes straight ahead. There were, as she had hoped, fewer people on the streets she took. Fewer people to look at. Fewer people to play guessing games with. Sighing, Door pulled out the flat pane of glass again. Her thumb poked at a few options, searching for some music or a distraction, but before she could choose one, a cry caught her attention.

Looking up, Door stopped. By that point, she had wandered into a deserted alley, but the scream didn’t come from there. There was no one around her to be its source. She listened carefully, straining her ears over the light patter of rain to catch any hint of where the noise came from.

And then, she got it. Another cry to her left, followed by a pair of shouts. Without thinking, she turned and bolted down another alley, following the voices through narrow side streets. It was a stupid idea, considering she had nothing to defend herself with, but she was running on instinct by that point. That first voice sounded pained, as if it was coming from someone in trouble, and Door would be damned if she was about to let some innocent person go without help.

The moment she rounded the last corner, Door was almost run over by two figures. Slamming herself against the wall in an awkward dodge, Door looked up to see their backs. One was a young woman with twin aqua braids flowing behind her. With each step, this woman slammed her black military boots into the pavement, and her slender arms swung a heavy-looking silver briefcase at her side. Running beside her was a taller, broader figure—a man, Door guessed—in a black trench coat.

She didn’t have much time to think about the two figures because in the next second, a third, this time brown and frazzled, rushed past her.

“Stop!” the third one cried. Another man, judging by the depth of his voice. “Please, stop!” 

The victim. Door recognized his voice, and once she realized who the man in brown was, she pushed off the brick wall and darted after him. Although Door was by no means out-of-shape thanks to months of working for Professor Ironwood’s assistant, it was still tough work catching up with all three figures, and because of that, for the first five minutes, she merely trailed behind them as they dove deeper into the warren of alleys and side streets until at last, she was able to choke out her first few words to the victim.

“H-hey! Hey!” she called.

He stumbled slightly, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Sorry! I can’t stop!” “Need help?!” she asked.

She wasn’t expecting him to say yes, and in fact, rather than answer her, he turned his gaze away and picked up speed. However, a few steps later, one of his hands lashed out to grab the lid of a nearby trashcan, and he skidded to a stop, twisted his body, and threw the lid like a disc. With a crack, the lid cut through the air and smashed into the back of the girl’s legs, sending her tumbling into the pavement. The case she carried crashed into the road, and with the force of impact, it burst open to send three orbs sailing through the air. None of them struck the ground right away. Instead, they split and filled the alley with light.

When the light cleared, three tiny figures stood between the man and the couple. One was a green, snake-like creature; another was a squat, red pig; and the third was a bulbous, blue-and-white otter. Door recognized all three right away. She had, after all, spent enough time in Professor Ironwood’s lab to know how to spot starter pokémon when she saw them.

The man whirled around to face her, and soon, she found herself staring into his wide, brown eyes.

“Help me grab the poké balls! Quickly!” he shouted.

She nodded and lunged for the nearest orb, one that had rolled within a few feet of her reach. As soon as her hand clasped around it, the otter swiveled around and trilled, as if to encourage her to keep going. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man move quickly to grab the second ball, but before he could reach the third, the taller figure in black kicked him squarely in the chest. The second orb arced out of the man’s hand and clattered to the ground as he went sailing into the trash cans behind him.

The figure in black had come out of nowhere, but Door should have seen him coming. She even kicked herself a little because she didn’t. It was as if one moment, she and her new partner were scrambling for the poké balls, and the next, the giant in black chose that exact moment to remind them that he was still there. As soon as the man in brown had been kicked out of the way, the figure in black reached down to grab the second orb. Then the third. He straightened, turning a blank glare towards Door, and she realized at once that she wasn’t looking at a human. It was that lack of expression, that uncanny likeness that looked too plastic to be real, the way his eyes glinted that told her the truth.

This man was a Companion.

Wordlessly, he held up the balls and let them fall open in his massive hands. Red light engulfed the tepig and snivy, and within seconds, they both vanished into their respective orbs. After passing one of them to the woman with aqua braids—whose icy glare told Door she was perfectly human—he moved his hand until he held it palm up to Door.

“The poké ball,” he droned.

Door took a step back, lifting her eyes to see the man’s face far above her. His eyes were dark and glowing with an internal light. His face was square and set in a way that made it look like it was wired together with metal. His mouth, molded into a neutral expression. Everything about him seemed towering and cold and _wrong_. Yet Door held the ball to her chest, suddenly unable to find the bravado she felt a moment ago.

“The poké ball,” he repeated in the exact same tone he had used the first time around.

Still, she said nothing. The Companion slowly turned his hand until it was palm side down. Then, he lifted his arm, reaching not for Door’s wrists but instead her head. She took another step back and cringed.

And then, a blue and white blur slammed into the man’s shoulder. Door blinked, and the blur resolved, flipping itself backwards as it sailed back to the ground. The oshawott barked, bared its fangs in a jagged snarl, and launched itself once more at the thieves, this time particularly at the girl with aqua braids. Her eyes widened, and half of a curse escaped her lips just before the oshawott smashed into her stomach and sent her crashing down onto her back. As the ball the thief held slipped from her fingers, Door reached out to snatch it without a second thought. But the second she did, her ankle caught on something, and her body spilled onto the road. Looking up, she caught sight of the woman lying on her side, with one hand wrapped tightly around Door’s foot. In response, Door screamed and lashed out, kicking at the woman desperately.

“You think you’re clever,” the woman growled as she snatched Door’s other foot. Then, she pushed herself onto her knees. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, do y—” 

“Oshawott, Tackle!” Door shrieked.

Truth be told, had Door been in her right mindset, she probably would have come up with a better plan than ordering a pokémon that wasn’t even hers to attack one of two bandits from behind. Yet somehow, it worked. One moment, she was staring wide-eyed at the woman, and the next, the otter slammed its entire body into the back of the thief’s head and landed gracefully by Door’s side. The woman’s violet eyes rolled back into her skull, and her grip on Door’s feet slackened. Finally, her entire body gave way, slumping over sideways onto the ground.

For a long while, everything was quiet. But then, the man in black looked down at his partner.

“Belle deemed incapacitated,” he rumbled. “Mission incomplete. Aborting.” 

He reached down and plucked the woman from the ground with the hand that was not holding one of the poké balls. With rigid movements, he rose, turned, and began marching towards the mouth of the alley. Door struggled to her knees, turning her wide eyes to the Companion.

“H-hey! Drop that ball!” She flicked a glance towards the pokémon beside her. “Oshawott! Stop him!” 

It nodded and barked once, then readied itself for another Tackle. In the next second, it pitched itself at the man, throwing its entire body at his back. The Companion turned, staring blankly at Door as Oshawott bounced off his chest harmlessly. As soon as Oshawott landed, the man turned back to the street.

“You are not ready,” he intoned. “Do not follow.” 

He crouched, craned his face to the sky, and did one thing Door wasn’t expecting at all from a Companion: leapt. His feet bounced back and forth, connecting with the brick wall on one side of the alley and then the wall on the other until he mounted one of their roofs. Within moments, he was gone, vanishing above the edge of the rooftop. As she watched the Companion go, Door tensed, balling her hands into fists. There was no way she would be able to catch up with that—not with her human legs and human limitations. Anger burned within her until a soft cry made her look down. At her feet, the otter held aloft one of the poké balls.

“Hey,” she said quietly. She stooped down and laid a heavy hand on Oshawott’s slick-furred head. “Good job, kid.” 

The oshawott trilled its name once again and pressed the ball into Door’s leg. She picked it up, testing its weight, only to notice a tiny flame icon on the red hemisphere.

“That’s Tepig’s.” 

Door swiveled her head up to see the man in brown. He sighed, ran his fingers through his wavy, brown hair, and crouched down to kneel beside Door. Holding out his other hand, he showed her the other poké ball the thieves had missed: one with an icon of a water droplet etched onto its surface.

“This is Oshawott’s,” he said. “Keep it, but I’ll need Tepig back.” 

Door hastily traded one poké ball for another, and as soon as Oshawott’s ball was in her hand, she felt the otter nuzzle her side.

“Thanks for your help,” the man said. “One chosen and another stolen. This isn’t good.” 

She blinked at him. “Hey, if you need Oshawott back—” 

He shook his head. “No. That’s all right. He looks like he likes you.” 

He. The otter had a gender. Looking down, Door examined Oshawott. Her palm stroked its back, feeling his silky fur beneath her skin. The pokémon certainly looked real, but she knew he had to be fake. He was too young-looking, and no real starter had been born in Unova since … well, she didn’t know how long it had been. She just knew they were gone. So whoever designed this one must have been a master.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, “but … I’m not a trainer. You can have him back.” 

“Not a trainer?” 

Door looked back to see that the stranger’s eyebrows were raised.

“Y-yeah,” she stammered. “I know. It’s weird, but I’m not! Honest! So, look, take him back.” She shoved the ball into the man’s hand. “Sorry I couldn’t get Snivy back too. Do you need help finding the police station or something?” 

He shook his head again. “No. No, that won’t be necessary.” 

Pushing his hands against his knees, he stood and dusted himself off.

“Oh.” Door rose to her feet as well and shoved her hands back into her pockets. “I guess you’re not from around here. Dunno which town you’re from, but Nuvema’s actually got a decent police force. You sure you don’t want to talk to a Jenny?” 

“No, I just mean I’ll be fine,” he said. His voice sounded distant, and because of that, Door didn’t take it as an insult. “But I would appreciate it if you guided me to Professor Ironwood’s laboratory.” 

At that, Door felt her blood chill. “Uh. Professor Ironwood?” 

He gave her a sideways glance. “Yes. I was on my way to delivering those starters to her when I was robbed. She’s the leading authority on pokémon research in this region, isn’t she?” 

“Y-yeah,” Door stuttered. Her eyes drifted from the stranger, and her thoughts were occupied completely on the job she wasn’t at right at that moment.

“Oh,” the man said. “I’m terribly sorry. This city is big. I shouldn’t have expected you to know—” 

“You … you just want to be led to her door, right?” Door said.

“Yes,” he replied slowly.

“ _Just_ to her door?” 

“Yes…?” 

Door breathed a sigh of relief and extended her hand. “Fine. I can take you there. I’m Door, by the way.” 

“Door.” The man smiled and grasped her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Geist.” 

Shaking his hand vigorously, she gave him the most confident forced smile she could muster. “Right! Good to meet you! Now let’s go! _Just_ to Professor Ironwood’s door!” 

Whipping around, she broke contact with Geist and began marching forward. Because of that, she couldn’t see the curious expression on his face.

“Uh, Door?” he asked.

“Yeah, Geist?” she responded.

“There isn’t anything I should … _know_ about Professor Ironwood, is there?” 

“Nope!” Door answered.

“Are you sure? You seem to be—” 

“Nope!” She flashed a wide grin over her shoulder. “Professor Ironwood would in no way be pissed off at me for any reason whatsoever! She and I are on absolutely great terms!” 

He stood there, staring at her with a strange expression, just long enough for Oshawott to climb up to his shoulder. Door, meanwhile, whirled back around and marched the rest of the way out of the alley.

“Come on, guys! Lots o’ walkin’ to do! Lots. O’. Walkin’!” 

And as Geist followed her, Door continued to smile, going over her plan again and again in her head. She would drop off Geist at the gate and run. No questions. No lectures. Just run.

Of course, this would have been a perfect plan, if her boss wasn’t waiting for her at the gate.

Thus, a half an hour later, Doreen Hornbeam’s journey began with her almost getting fired.


	2. The Professor’s Laboratory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door is "convinced" to go on a journey.

“Doreen,” Professor Ironwood’s aide said, “not that I think you would care either way, what with your habit of missing at least three work days out of five per week since you’ve been employed here, but as your mentor, I’m obligated to inform you that it’s responsible to be _punctual_. Do I have to let you go? … Are you even listening to me, young lady?”

Truth be told, Door was not. She was looking at her boss, yes. She stood straight, with her hands out of her pockets and her gaze locked onto his sharp, thin face, but she was not, in fact, listening to a single nasally word he said. Still, whenever he paused, she nodded, occasionally throwing in a short “mmhmm” to make it sound more like she was. She did this because it was respectful, and really, all she needed the job for was a little extra money on the side. Otherwise, she was neither surprised by the fact that Professor Ironwood’s assistant had noticed her absence nor surprised by the fact that Professor Ironwood herself _hadn’t_. The latter had less to do with the professor’s usual absentmindedness and more to do with Door’s actual profession. 

Door was essentially a glorified personal assistant, responsible for running out to perform errands that neither the assistant nor the professor had time to do. The actual handling of any pokémon was done by the assistant, data entry was done by the assistant, maintenance of the equipment was done by the assistant—practically anything that had to do with pokémon research was done by the assistant, if not Ironwood herself. So really, there was no reason for Ironwood to have noticed. Her assistant, meanwhile, was not only a very particular boss but also not the one responsible for making the coffee every morning, which Door assumed was the only reason why _he_ had noticed her absence—and, for that matter, why he had just spent the past ten minutes drilling into her head the importance of punctuality.

“I know you’re trying,” the assistant said (although Door knew that this was a blatant lie and that he did not, in fact, believe that she was trying at all), “but if you’re not willing to come to work on time every day…”

At that point, Door finally honed in on the assistant’s words. She mentally braced herself and quickly slapped together the excuse she would give her parents for why she got fired.

“…I’m going to have to…”

Door took a deep breath and silently urged him to say it.

“…call your father.”

Door blinked. Then she blinked again. That was not the _it_ she was expecting. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I think it’s about time we had a chat with your parents about your behavior around the laboratory,” he said. He clasped his hands in front of him in a condescendingly apologetic gesture. “We can’t just let you go—not when Professor Ironwood is keen on repaying your father for fixing so much of our equipment, but on the other hand, we can’t just let your lack of interest in this job go without correction. Unfortunately, seeing as your mother is away on business, we were only able to send an invitation to your father, so I hope he and the professor can come to a suitable agreement on their own.”

“Whoa, wait!” Door took a step forward. “Are you saying you’ve already called him?!”

“This morning, yes.”

“And he’s coming?!”

“Presumably. We sent one of our spare Companions, and she has yet to return.”

“But … but I…” Unable to find her words beyond that point, Door closed her mouth.

“No buts, young lady. It’s about high time you learned a little responsibility.” With that, he placed his hands on his hips. “Speaking of which, where _is_ your father?”

“Well…”

Door fumbled for her holo caster, bringing it out into the open. Her mind raced to put together an excuse—an explanation for why there was no way her boss would be able to speak with her parent. Maybe if she could convince him to go home and see what her father was doing, that would be a nice, easy ticket out of the mess she was facing right then and there. Just get dismissed and conveniently forget to tell her father to go to the laboratory. Easy, right?

“He said he had something to show me,” Door said slowly. “I mean … I guess he _might_ be around soon, but who knows what he’s been doing? It sounded like he was right at a breakthrough, so he probably won’t—”

As if on cue, the door burst open, and a slender figure leaned in.

“Hi!” she sang, extending one pale arm.

Door nearly dropped her holo caster as she and her boss whirled around to face … a Companion. A familiar one, no less: one that Door could recognize purely by how odd it looked compared to the standard home units. To Door, this Companion and all the others like her seemed unfinished, with white shells gleaming with plastic sheens, seams still showing around pointed faces, and bright, blue lights illuminating glassy eyes. In all ways, this Companion—one of five Professor Ironwood had around the laboratory—looked more like a doll dressed in a loose, blue dress than a person, which meant that this was not a Companion intended on blending in. She was a research Companion, one designed for science, not traveling.

So it would have gone without saying that she wasn’t supposed to have much of a personality either. As in, she wasn’t supposed to be waving enthusiastically and trotting into the room with Door’s father in tow like she was right then.

Door’s father, Linus Hornbeam, strode into the room with a wide grin crossing his round face and a large hand stroking his fire-red beard. Linus Hornbeam, aspiring storage system administrator, inventor, and, most importantly, the son of Brigette Hamilton-Hornbeam, was known for being … a bit of an eccentric. That is to say, Linus was most famous for churning out inventions from his little workshop in the center of town that the people of Nuvema called “fascinating” when they meant “I have no polite word to describe my incredulousness over the fact that this exists.” It was not unusual for Linus to hammer out microwaves that were capable of sarcastic banter, combination blender-iron-vacuum cleaners, or poké navs that included a self-updating map for every hamburger restaurant in the region. People who took their C-gears to him for repair—which was not a rare occurrence, as he was formally the owner of the best repair shop in Nuvema—knew up front that their C-gear would come back functioning but … different. And because of that, no one quite knew whether or not Linus should be called a mad scientist.

But Door knew the answer to that question was a resounding “yes.” And for that reason, as soon as she saw the Companion, she buried her face in her hands and tried not to think about what he did to it. _Especially_ given the fact that it was undoubtedly Professor Ironwood’s missing Companion.

“Oh God,” she breathed. “This is a dream. This is definitely a dream.”

“So! What do you think?” he asked, planting his hands on his wide hips. “Perfect, isn’t she? Tweaked her AI a little to include a functioning personality core and self-evolving software. She’s just a couple of adjustments away from passing the Turing test!”

“You gave our research Companion your own AI?!” the aide shrieked.

Seemingly oblivious to this reaction, the Companion smiled and waved. “Hi! I’m Opal! I hope we can be good friends!”

As Door watched from between her fingers, she saw this Companion—this Opal—extend her hand with her long, thin fingers spread. The aide’s eyes widened at the sight of the gesture, and he shook his head vigorously.

“No no. This won’t do,” he said.

Opal’s smile faltered—actually faltered, much to Door’s shock—but that broad grin on her pale face returned just as quickly as it faded. “I’m sorry. Did I do something to upset you?”

“Perfect, right?” Linus said.

In response, the aide massaged his temples. “I … I need to speak with the professor.”

But then, for the second time that day, Door was saved from further embarrassment by another door opening. This time, it was the one to the main laboratory, and in strode an older woman with Geist behind her.

The entire room hushed at her presence, although her grin was warm and far from intimidating. Through a pair of half-moon glasses, this woman peered at the assistant, at Door, at Linus, and at Opal in turn. Her hands slipped into the pockets of her lab coat, and she approached Opal with an eager glint in her green eyes.

This was Professor Bianca Ironwood, foremost pokémon researcher in all of Unova—and, on that note, Door’s employer.

“Well, well! What do we have here?” Ironwood asked. “My! Your expressions are nearly perfect!” She touched her chin with the crook of her index finger. “You just need a more flexible face cover, and you might just pass for a human being!”

Opal clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on the balls of her feet. “Thank you, ma’am!”

“My goodness, you’re getting better every day,” Professor Ironwood continued, turning to Door’s father. “Soon, you’ll be just as good at designing Companions as your mother! I can’t wait to see what kinds of Companions you put together from scratch if you’re skilled enough to put a smile on Opal’s face!”

“Professor,” the aide said. “You do know that this is one of our research Companions, yes?”

“Of course! I would recognize every one of them in a heartbeat.” She smiled sweetly. Then, after a few beats, she added, “But I do have to ask. How on Earth did you get a hold of Opal?”

“Funny story, actually,” Linus replied. “She came to me!”

“Really? My, your skills must be unmatched! To think, you’ve connected to Opal remotely, and—”

“Actually,” the aide interjected. “I sent Opal to fetch Dr. Hornbeam.”

She blinked at him. “Oh? What for?”

Door swung herself around and started creeping away. She was painfully aware of Geist’s eyes on her, but not a single part of her could bring itself to care.

“Doreen has been a bit of a problem lately,” the aide growled.

“Oh? My Door?” Linus asked. “What did she do?”

“It’s what she _didn’t_ do, Dr. Hornbeam. As in, she didn’t come to work. _Again._ ”

“Oh, that explains why we had no coffee this morning,” Professor Ironwood said.

“Professor, with all due respect, that’s not exactly important right now!” the aide protested. “What’s important is that for the fifth time this month, Doreen has not shown up for work, and whenever she _does_ show up, she’s late! I’ve heard all kinds of excuses from that girl, and it’s about time we do something about her. I know her internship here was your idea, Dr. Hornbeam, but this is unacceptable!”

“I’d agree with you, Ted,” Linus responded, “but what’s all this about Door not being at work? When I called her today, she was…”

Then, he stopped. He blinked. And then, he turned to the empty space Door had occupied a moment ago.

“Door? Where did you go?” he asked. “Door!”

An abrupt yelp drew the eyes of the researchers and the aide to the front entrance. There, Door muttered curses under her breath as Geist pinned one of her arms behind her back. He did that with only one hand. The other, meanwhile, was planted firmly on his hip.

“Here she is,” he said. “Now, as much as I would hate to interrupt the installation of a strong, moral character, I’d like for us to get back to the matter at hand.”

“But Doreen _is_ the matter at hand!” the aide cried.

The professor’s expression grew dark and serious. “Oh, no. He’s right. I’m sorry; I’d nearly forgotten. Ted, I’m afraid we’ll have to call off our upcoming experiment. Unfortunately, our subjects have had a run-in.”

At once, to Door’s relief, the aide shifted his eyes away from her to give the professor a curious glance. “Run-in?”

Professor Ironwood sighed and placed her hand on the side of her head, flattening her graying, blonde hair. “Yes. Our friend here was robbed, I’m afraid. He assures me he doesn’t need any special attention, but the fact of the matter is that Snivy has been stolen and Oshawott has bonded with Door. We can’t use either of them.”

Door stopped and looked up at the professor. She couldn’t imagine what Ironwood meant by “bonded.”

“And Tepig?” Ted asked softly.

“Shaken up but fine,” Ironwood replied. “Unfortunately, seeing as my niece has asked that we set a subject aside for her, I can’t use Tepig either. We’ll have to ask Dr. Fennel to send a new batch … if there is one.”

Ted ran a hand over his face. “Oh. This is terrible.”

The professor shrugged. “Truth is, it could’ve been worse. According to Mr. Geist, if Door hadn’t been where she was, the thieves would’ve gotten away with all three! At the very least, this means two of the starters are in safe hands.”

At once, the aide paled. He slowly turned back to Door, who flashed him a wide smile.

“So for that reason, I think we can forgive you this time, Door,” Professor Ironwood told her. “But this does present a dilemma.”

Door’s grin faltered. “Uh … dilemma, ma’am?”

“Yes.” She nodded and motioned to Geist. “You see, Mr. Geist will need an escort back to his employer, Dr. Fennel. We can’t let him go unattended. After all, what if the thieves find him again?”

“So … what? You’re sending me off to take him to the Route 1 depot without any protection, just in case he gets jumped again by armed trainers?” she asked.

“Oh no,” Ironwood replied. “We’ll give you protection. Oshawott seems fond of you, so you’ll have him! Moreover…” She lowered her gaze a little. “You won’t be taking him to the depot. You’ll be taking him all the way to Striaton City on foot.”

Door blinked. “But wait. The cars running from the depot are absolutely safe. You can’t even take pokémon on them. Why would you want me to go the long way down the routes?”

“That … would be my problem,” Geist said. “I’m sorry, Door. I simply can’t go via the cars. I don’t have the proper documentation to do so.”

Door huffed. After doing the math in her head, she realized it checked out. Not everyone could afford to go by the public cars via the transport depot, and that was why there wasn’t much mobility between cities. It was either walk or bike the free, safe routes or pay a good chunk of change to buy a ticket that would take passengers via the express trains. So Door could understand why Geist wouldn’t have the right documentation for it: if Dr. Fennel was cheap when it came to paying her aides, then it stood to reason that he literally couldn’t get a ticket. And judging by the paycheck Door received weekly from Unova’s foremost researcher, she had no doubt Geist, who worked for a considerably lesser-known scientist, wouldn’t have that much money either.

Still, this was an inconvenience. It cut in on Door’s free time _and_ forced her to go directly to the hub of newbie trainers who reveled in their so-called journeys. And in any case, something else didn’t sit right with her.

“Fine, but don’t you need me to give a statement or something? I _did_ witness a robbing,” she said.

“Oh no,” Professor Ironwood replied. “Mr. Geist gave me everything I would need to file a report.”

“What?” Door furrowed her eyebrows and wrenched her arm away from Geist’s grip. “But I’m literally a witness!”

“Believe me, Door, it’s fine,” Professor Ironwood said. “Mr. Geist was very thorough.”

“I can’t believe you’re really turning this down,” Linus added with a chuckle. “Aren’t you always talking about going on some epic adventure?”

“Are you kidding me?! No, I’m not!” Door’s cheeks burned.

“Sure! Always going on about how great the good old days were, before all the ordinances went into place,” Linus replied. “Wouldn’t it be fun if you went on a trainer’s journey, just to see what all the hubbub was about?”

“No! Absolutely not! I’m not going on a stupid trainer’s journey!” Door snapped. “Look, I’ll do the escort thing as part of my job or something, but it’s not a journey! Got it?”

Professor Ironwood tilted her head a little and grinned. Ted crossed his arms and gave Door a stern look. Linus beamed as always, but his thick fingers rose to stroke his beard in thought. But none of them broke the growing silence pervading the room. That particular honor went to Geist.

“Well, that was the most brilliant stroke of psychological manipulation I have ever witnessed,” he said.

In response, Door’s face fell. “Wait. What?”

“We knew we could count on you, Door!” Professor Ironwood said.

“ _What?!_ ” she squeaked.

“Hopefully, this errand will instill on you some level of responsibility,” Ted sighed.

Door buried her face in her hands again. “ _What just happened?!_ ”

Thus, Door’s journey _actually_ began … because she was duped into it.


	3. Route 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door catches a new friend. Sort of.

“Okay,” Door sighed. “I get why you’re here, and I get why the oshawott’s here. But why is _she_ here?”

She jammed her thumb towards Opal, who, for the past half an hour, had been pleasantly following Door and Geist down Route 1. The misty rain had cleared since they left the laboratory, and now, as they walked along the blue, glowing road, the sun shone brightly overhead. In short, it felt almost too perfect to Door. Warm sun. Blue skies. Few trainers on the lit, Plexiglas path. Not even a rustle from the tall grass on either side. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. And because of that, Door had time to think … mostly about the fact that a Companion had suddenly decided to be a part of their mission. It really wasn’t that Door was planning on running off after getting Geist to his destination, but it was really the _principle_ of being followed by a Companion that bothered her. And with no distractions, it bothered her a _lot_.

“Because,” Geist said, “Professor Ironwood can’t use her as a research tool anymore. The personality core gets in the way of their purpose as a data repository, after all. However, she _can_ retrofit a research Companion with a traveling Companion’s equipment and send her off to a niece who, to the best of her knowledge, is shopping for one as she waits for her starter. This niece just so happens to be attending Trainers’ School in Striaton City, and seeing as that’s along our way, Professor Ironwood believed it would be most efficient for us to take Opal with us.” He paused briefly. “I hope that niece isn’t looking forward to an oshawott or a snivy. That would be unfortunate.”

“Who cares what pokémon she’s waiting for?!” Door growled as she massaged her temples. “I can’t believe this.”

Opal trotted up, falling in line with Door. “I’m detecting that you’re unhappy. Would you like me to cheer you up?”

“No!” Door snapped, waving her hands in the air. “Just stay away from me!” She wrapped her arms around her chest and took a few more steps forward to get away from Opal. “And don’t look at me either. It’s creepy.”

Geist frowned, then strode forward to catch up with Door. “I apologize if this is a personal question, but what’s so bad about Companions?”

“Everything,” Door groaned. “I mean, c’mon. Take a good look at her. What do you think? Don’t you think it’s a bit … I don’t know. Much? Like, she’s trying hard to smile, but it just doesn’t look right, you know?”

He glanced back at Opal, who was no longer smiling. She wasn’t even walking. She was simply standing there, her hands folded over her skirt. With a sharp frown, Geist grabbed Door by the shoulder to stop her, and when she did, she turned to look at him, then at Opal.

“You know, I’ve never thought one way or another about them,” Geist said. “But I do know that if something can hear you and understand what you’re saying, it’s best to treat it with some level of respect.”

Door blinked, taken aback by this statement. What Geist said wasn’t delivered in a scolding manner. It was a philosophy. _Just_ a statement of a philosophy. But as Geist walked back, closing the distance between himself and Opal, Door couldn’t help but feel a small splinter of guilt.

“Yeah, but…” Door’s voice died in her throat as she looked at the grass, suddenly finding herself unable to look at Geist.

“I think she looks just fine,” Geist said.

At that, Opal lifted her eyes and stared at him. He touched her shoulder, and her slender hand rose to caress his. Her mouth shifted, shaping itself into a tiny smile—one far too tiny for any human face.

“Yes,” Geist continued. “She’s just fine.”

“Ugh, gimme a break,” Door muttered.

She turned away and continued down the route, intent on mapping the next few cities in her head. Accumula was less than a few hours’ walk from the border of Nuvema, and given how long they had been traveling, they were bound to approach the city limits soon. After that, it wouldn’t take long to cross Accumula to get to Route 2, and from Route 2, it would be another few hours to Striaton. And while she had no idea where in Striaton Dr. Fennel or the Trainers’ School was, she assumed Geist _did_ , which meant he would be able to take her where she needed to be in no time at all. Thus, the journey one way would only take two days if they continued moving at that speed. Sure, they would have to stop somewhere, but even then…

“Oh.” Door covered her face with her hands. “Oh crap.”

Geist caught up with her and stopped. “What?”

“We’re not getting to Striaton in one day,” Door explained as she uncovered her face. “That means staying over somewhere, and that requires money. Which I don’t have.”

“Oh, is that all?” Geist chuckled. “You scared me for a moment there.”

“How do you not see that as a problem?”

Geist pulled an item out of his pocket and displayed it to her. She recognized it immediately as a pokédex, but this one was different from the ones most trainers carried with them. It wasn’t inscribed with a simple poké ball like a trainer’s pokédex; rather, it was inscribed with a pair of wings crossing each other over a poké ball—the insignia for the foremost organization for pokémon researchers in existence.

“You’re my guest, and as the chief assistant to a member of the Pokémon Symposium, I’m entitled to a free room at any pokémon center.” Geist pocketed the device and brushed past Door. “Problem solved.”

“Oh,” she said faintly. “Huh.”

Whirling around, she jogged forward until she fell into step beside Geist again. For a long while, they didn’t say anything. Door, awkward and uncomfortable, stared out onto the seas of grasses on both sides of the route, and both the Companion and her new traveling partner remained silent and focused on the road ahead.

In the hush that fell between them, Door shoved her hands into her pockets and felt the small sphere buried deep in one of them. Her thumb slid over the plastic coat, and her index finger explored its roundness and size. Professor Ironwood had given her Oshawott’s poké ball, stating once again that the pokémon had grown attached to her, but Door couldn’t see how. It was just a machine, right? Just like all the others? How could a fake pokémon express any kind of emotional attachment to a living, breathing human being? Her eyes turned towards the grasses as her mind went back over the pokémon that were supposed to live in them. Patrat. Lillipup. Further out, their evolutions. Easy pokémon for beginning trainers, and sure enough, every few minutes, she would see the head of another trainer, bobbing along just above the tall grass in search of yet another pokémon.

It was stupid, really. All of it. The route was nothing more than a little park, lined with grass and trees planted by landscapers. That park was stocked with animatronics, and all of this was supposed to make everyone feel better about the fact that the entire region would be a barren wasteland if it wasn’t for the conservation programs. Too bad those conservation programs came too late to save the pokémon.

Door scowled at the route ahead. It was stupid. It was fake, and it was stupid, and anyone who bought it was some kind of government sheep. But not her. She wasn’t going to cave. She may have had a faux pokémon in her pocket, but that thing wasn’t going to come out unless she absolutely had to use it.

“Excuse me!” Opal said.

Geist paused at the sound of her voice. Door nearly walked onward before remembering that this was an escort mission, and the person she was escorting was about to be left behind. With an exasperated sigh, she stopped and waited.

“What is it, Opal?” Geist asked.

Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Door saw Opal point to the east, towards a spot in the middle of the grass.

“There’s a patrat about fifty feet away from us,” Opal answered. “Lax nature. Likes to doze off. Capture level: beginner.” Her arm lowered, and she smiled at Door. “Would you like to capture it, Miss Door?”

“No,” Door growled. “Come on. We’re wasting time. Sooner we get to Accumula, easier it’ll be to get a room.”

She took a few steps forward, but before she could get any further, Geist’s voice stopped her.

“On the other hand, it _would_ be beneficial to us if you caught another pokémon.”

With another exasperated sigh, Door looked at the sky, then turned to face Geist. “How?”

“Two reasons,” Geist replied, holding up two fingers. “First, the more pokémon you have, the more firepower you have against anyone who might ambush us. So in that sense, getting more pokémon will help you do your job as my escort. Second, while Route 1 is full of trainers who are too busy looking for their first pokémon to battle, Route 2 is full of trainers desperate to get stronger in order to tackle Striaton’s gym. I was just barely able to run past most of them on my way here, but with three of us, we stand at a higher chance of being caught by a particularly eager trainer.”

“Can’t you just flash your researcher’s ID to get them to back off?” Door protested.

“Possibly,” Geist admitted, “but that won’t solve the first problem I’d mentioned.”

Another silence lapsed between them as Door studied Geist. Then, huffing, she started for the field.

“I really hate that you’re right,” she muttered.

Geist smiled and followed Door, motioning towards Opal at the same time. “Come along, Opal. We’d better help Door out with this.”

“I don’t need help,” Door muttered under her breath.

She pushed through the tall grass, shouldering the stiff blades roughly as she squinted through the underbrush. Although the grass around her face was vibrant and green, the tangle of dead blades at her feet were a perfect match to a patrat’s ruddy coat. And Door knew this, and because of that, she knew finding the patrat would be a pain.

Door, of course, was wrong. It only took a few minutes before she shoved aside a tuft of grass and nearly tripped over something small, soft, warm, and loud. Her body pitched forward, and she yelped as she crashed into the ground, kicking at the thing tangling around her ankles. The object was screeching—actually screeching—as it clawed at her shoes, and after a moment, she managed to pick one of her feet up to see a patrat gnawing at her toes.

“Crap!” Door cried.

Her hand jammed into her pocket, and she yanked out her poké ball to release her pokémon. Within seconds, Oshawott was standing beside her, blinking away the last of the light. As soon as he could see, he immediately turned to his trainer and descended into a chittering panic, pawing at her arm with concern. All the while, the patrat detached itself from her foot and bowled into the grass until it came to a stop a meter away. There, it rose to its paws, flattening the grass as it stood.

“I’m fine!” Door barked at her pokémon. “Just use Tackle on that patrat! Hurry up before it gets away!”

Oshawott jolted, as if something inside his brain clicked. He pirouetted on his stubby paws and then launched himself full-force at the meerkat. The patrat blinked slowly, as if unable to register what was happening, before Oshawott collided into it and sent them both tumbling farther into the grass. Seeing the two roll further from her, Door scrambled to her own feet and balled her hands into fists at her sides.

“Okay, good!” she called. “Keep using Tackle!”

The patrat growled and narrowed its glowing, red eyes at Oshawott. Its shifted on its paws, only to be struck in the chest by Oshawott’s shoulder, and with that, the patrat flew a foot into the air and came down hard on its back. Chattering, it twisted, raised itself to all fours, and dashed towards Oshawott, and before Door knew it, her own pokémon was knocked off his feet and across a short distance into the ground, courtesy of the patrat’s Tackle. The patrat, meanwhile, had stopped short where Oshawott had stood a second ago. Sparks crackled off its body, and its head twitched as it waited for its opponent to move.

“Door!” Geist shouted. “Don’t land a third hit! It’s almost broken, and poké balls don’t work on broken pokémon!”

She shot him a look but was surprised to see that he was still standing on the road. How could he tell what condition the patrat was in from all the way over there?

Then, her gaze slid to Opal. The Companion’s expression was blank for the first time since Nuvema, and her eyes glowed with a soft blue light as they hovered on the patrat. Door had half a mind to kick herself. Of course. All Companions came with a built-in module that kept track of a pokémon’s “health,” among other statistics. In a training Companion’s case, that made battles a lot easier, and that was about the extent of it. But for a research Companion like Opal, the module was invaluable. It gauged all kinds of things about the fake pokémon throughout Unova—things that Door only knew about vaguely, sure, but either way, it was simply a given that Opal would have started scanning the patrat the moment she detected it.

“Yeah,” Door said, dusting herself off. Then, a little louder, she added, “Thanks for Pokémon Training 101! Totally needed that basic tip I never learned in first grade!”

“Just trying to help!” Geist said. His tone was cheerful, not defensive, and even that put Door off. Could this guy be anything but polite? She couldn’t tell.

Tensing, she watched as the patrat started wobbling towards the grass behind it. If Door didn’t act fast, she was going to lose that patrat, and she was well aware of that.

“Yeah, well, if you wanted to help, you could get over here and toss me a poké ball or something!” she shouted.

“You don’t have any of your own?” Geist asked incredulously.

Door huffed in exasperation. “Why would I keep poké balls of my own?! I’m not a trainer! How many times do I have to tell you that?!”

For almost half a minute, there was silence, save for the crunch of the patrat’s slow, ambling footsteps. Suddenly, a poké ball arced over the tall grass and shot into Door’s view. She moved to catch it, but she realized a little too late that it was flying out of her reach. Instead, it bounced squarely on patrat’s head and cracked open. Door could only watch as a red light consumed the patrat and drew it into the ball, and she could do nothing as the orb snapped shut and dropped to the ground.

Then, the ball shook once.

Twice.

Three times.

And stopped with a click.

After that, there was another very long silence. One that was drawn out until Oshawott rushed forward, grabbed the ball, and darted to Door’s side. As he held the ball up to his trainer, Door let her eyes flit from the object to Geist and back again, but Geist was exactly where he had been a few minutes ago: on the road. The only difference was that his arm was still cocked, fingers frozen at the end of a toss. His confident smirk told Door everything: that he threw the ball, that he intended on hitting the patrat, and that he had no doubt in his mind that he could.

Yet … he couldn’t see where the patrat was. There was tall grass in the way. Fifty feet of it.

So how the hell did he hit an obscured moving target from fifty feet away?

Door didn’t have an answer. Just a response. A response that perfectly summarized her confusion and surprise and light shades of fear in two short words.

“ _Holy crap._ ”


	4. Accumula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door meets an antagonist.

Companions weren’t supposed to speak unless spoken to. Or, rather, they weren’t supposed to be capable of unwanted conversation. They spoke, of course, but most of what they had to say were pieces of advice, warnings, all the things one would expect from a robotic nanny. Sometimes, some of the units who specialized in hospitality, entertainment, or general servitude were also capable of friendly conversation. But to go on and on when a user was very clearly uninterested in conversing was a whole different matter, and the fact that Opal just refused to shut up was, according to Door’s estimate, very likely the result of whatever her father did to the android. And if that was the case, she was going to set fire to his laboratory the moment she got back to Nuvema.

But for now, she was just going to do her best to ignore Opal—a feat that, the longer Geist was gone, the harder it was for her to pull off.

“Have you thought of a name yet?” Opal asked.

Door huffed and turned away. She hoped that the Companion would take a hint or that she would be easier to ignore, but neither happened.

“Did you know?” Opal continued, holding up a finger. “Studies show that naming a pokémon helps a trainer bond with it. By recognizing a pokémon’s individuality, trainers may overcome any mental hesitation brought on by its artificial state. So therefore—”

“There is nothing wrong with us,” Door growled.

“I’m sorry?”

She slapped the table and sent a fierce glare toward Opal. “There is nothing wrong with us, okay?! Don’t imply that it’s our fault some of us can’t bond with those things! They’re toys! They don’t have individuality! They are plastic and metal and computer chips! They! Are! Things!”

As soon as Door stopped talking, she noticed the silence in the room. Glancing around, she realized all eyes were on her—some with glints of shock and others with sharp frowns of disgust. Their looks ignited something in Door, and she felt her heart beat faster out of humiliation.

“What?!” she barked.

The trainers around her went back to their conversations without further acknowledgement.

“Curious,” Geist said.

Door cringed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him sliding into a seat next to her.

“Dr. Fennel told me about you,” he said. “You’re the daughter of Linus Hornbeam, a noted Companion developer. Your grandmother is Brigette Hamilton-Hornbeam, CEO of Halcyon Labs, the company responsible for the Companions. And your great aunt—”

“Invented them. Yeah, I know,” Door grumbled. “What’s your point?”

“You seem passionately anti-Companion. Anti-fauxkémon, for that matter. It seems odd, considering your background.”

Door stood up abruptly. “I’m not ungrateful, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Geist held up his hands, palms towards her. “I’m not. I’m just curious.”

“About what?” Door asked, crossing her arms.

“About why you hate them so much.”

Door shrugged and looked at a corner of the room. “They’re creepy. Uncanny Valley and all. And it’s stupid that everyone’s so nuts about them. They’re just computers, for God’s sake!”

Geist propped his chin up with one hand. Grinning, he said, “And here I thought you had a traumatic childhood experience involving them.”

Door narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t need a traumatic experience to dislike something.”

“Fair enough.”

Geist slid his arm off the table. With a graceful sweep, he stood and clasped his hands behind his back, and Door couldn’t help but watch him from out the corner of his eye. Something had been bothering her about Geist since he captured the patrat. It wasn’t the fact that he knew where it was. It wasn’t the fact that he threw that ball across fifty feet of field to hit that patrat. It wasn’t even the fact that Professor Ironwood never questioned Door about the theft or the fact that something about how Geist needed an escort back to Striaton didn’t make sense.

It was … everything. All at once. One giant cascade of red flags all the way down to a single suspicion. Door narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t say anything, didn’t ask Geist. No, she needed more proof.

She needed to look into his eyes. If she could see them and figure out whether or not they were glass, she would know for certain whether or not Geist was real. But unfortunately, he turned, putting his back to her as he leaned against the table.

“Anyway, I’ve spoken with Dr. Fennel and informed her of what happened in Nuvema,” he said. “As expected, she wants us to get to her lab as soon as possible, but she’s delighted to know that Oshawott has found a good home. I’ve also taken the liberty of checking us into the trainers’ dormitories, so we can take a rest and start out early tomorrow morning if that’s all right with you.”

As if to punctuate that thought, Geist drew an object out of his pocket, placed it on the table, and slid it backwards towards Door. Upon seeing it, Door realized it was a card.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Your key,” Geist told her. “You’ll have a private room.”

Door eyed him suspiciously. “And you?”

“Staying in my own quarters, along with Opal.”

Convenient. There was something definitely wrong here. In every pokémon center, trainers had their own dormitories, yes, but Companions and faux pokémon were frequently left in a separate charging station to ensure their power cells had enough electricity stored for the next leg of a trainer’s journey. So if Geist wasn’t staying with Door in a trainer’s dormitory, did that mean he was going to the charging station?

On the other hand, he just said he was staying in his own room.

With Opal.

He was practically admitting it by that point, but Door needed more proof. Knowing this, she shook her head and answered, “No can do. I’m your escort, remember? The whole point of me going on this little trip with you is to protect you. How can I protect you if you’re out of my sight for hours?”

“Trust me,” Geist replied. “There’s no safer place I can be than here.”

Balling her hand into a fist, Door slammed it on the table in front of her. “Okay. I’ve had enough.”

Geist whirled around, pressing the side of his hip into the table as he looked at Door with wide eyes. “Sorry?”

“You,” Door said. She punctuated that word by jabbing her index finger roughly in Geist’s direction. “Are you just gonna come out and say you’re a Companion, or what?”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“No, seriously. Don’t do this,” she said. “It’s bad enough I had to tell you exactly why I hate Companions. You might as well just come right out and say it.”

Geist’s expression shifted, his eyebrows furrowing as he gave her an awkward, sympathetic smile.

And it was then that Door saw it. Saw _them_ , actually: his eyes. They weren’t lit up like Opal’s. Door placed both hands on the surface of the table and stood, leaning up to get a closer look. It was a cliché to think of it like this, Door knew, but all of a sudden, her heart skipped a beat. Geist’s eyes looked real, looked nothing like the eyes of mass-produced Companions. That either meant he was a custom design by an incredibly talented artist…

…or that he wasn’t a Companion.

Door leaned back, standing straight next to her chair. She blinked a couple of times, staring blankly at Geist. He only tilted his head at her, angling that sympathetic smile just enough to make her face burn. An expression. A real, sympathetic expression. Companions could mimic expressions, but according to the scientific community, whether or not they could feel sympathy was still up for debate. Yet here Geist was, smiling at her with pure, genuine sympathy. Not the condescending kind, either. The kind that told her he really didn’t want to correct her. A friendly kind of sympathy. And it was _genuine_.

Yet … it didn’t add up. Either Geist was human, or he was a really _good_ Companion. But if he was the latter, who could have made him? Not even Halcyon’s state-of-the-art units were this good.

“I’m curious,” he said. “What made you come to that conclusion?”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she finally found her words. Even as she said them, they felt stupid in her mind.

“I … you caught that patrat,” she said.

“Of course I did.”

“From fifty feet away.”

“I throw remarkably well.”

“And it’s registered to me.”

Geist shrugged. “Anyone can _give_ pokémon away. The entire concept of a trading machine is more of a formality between registered trainers. Seeing as I’m not a registered trainer, I don’t have to do that. Ownership of any pokémon I catch can simply be registered to you the moment you hand it to Nurse Joy—which you did, in this case.”

“Okay,” Door said, “but how did you know where the patrat was?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You do know that I was standing right next to Opal, right?”

Door huffed in exasperation. “But what about Professor Ironwood?”

“What about her?”

“She never took my witness testimony,” Door said. “Companions automatically record video of everything they see and hear, so wouldn’t Professor Ironwood’s refusal to hear me out mean she took a video from you?”

“No, it just means she took a testimony from someone who was targeted for a crime,” Geist replied as he held up a hand, palm facing the ceiling. “She’s not law enforcement, Door. Taking a witness testimony from either of us wouldn’t mean a thing. While Professor Ironwood will be filing a report with the Nuvema police force, we’re heading back to Striaton to file a formal one there, seeing as this involves theft of Dr. Fennel’s property by her own assistants.”

Door blinked. “What?”

“That’s why we’re going back to Dr. Fennel’s laboratory so quickly,” Geist said slowly. “So we can hand her former assistants’ information over to the Striaton law enforcement.”

“No, I meant what was that about assistants?” Door said.

“How do you think I got to Nuvema in the first place if I needed an escort back?” Geist asked. “Belle and Starr—the people who stole Snivy and nearly got away with Tepig and Oshawott? They had been working for Dr. Fennel for six months in a capacity very similar to yours. We had no idea they weren’t trustworthy; we just assumed they were strong trainers and ideal couriers. Our background checks never pulled up anything to the contrary—not under those identities, anyway. But that’s also why Dr. Fennel and I need to confer as soon as possible. We’re almost certain they didn’t steal information or anything else we sent them to deliver, but almost certain isn’t the same thing as absolutely certain.”

“Ah.” Door smirked and pointed at him. “You needed an escort both ways. That must mean you couldn’t take the cars because you needed people to go with you.”

Geist’s eyelids lowered a little. “Not necessarily. Alternatively, I needed an escort because I’m the chief assistant to the foremost researcher in both pokémon technology and oneirology in the region, and it would be massively unfortunate if I were to be kidnapped or robbed while carrying rare pokémon.”

“Oh.” Door scrunched her nose. “But then why can’t you take the cars? Aren’t those pretty safe?”

“Yes,” Geist admitted, “but the fact that I can’t take them isn’t definite proof. A _human_ may be unable to take the cars if they don’t possess proper government-issued identification such as a passport or license to do so. I literally do not have that kind of documentation.”

A long silence drew out between them before Door sat down.

“Okay,” she said, “I’m curious.”

Geist leaned against the table and pressed both of his palms into its surface, and after a long breath out, he said, “I’m from Kanto. Don’t ask me how I wound up in Unova without paperwork. I simply … did. As far as I can remember, I’ve always been with Dr. Fennel. I don’t remember anything else about my life before then except what she told me, and I didn’t arrive with any form of identification that would be able to shed some light on who I was.”

Door shifted in her seat. This was weird. Soap opera weird. Yet for whatever reason, she didn’t feel like questioning it—not in terms of validity, anyway. Part of her settled on the explanation that it didn’t matter, as Geist wasn’t going to be a permanent part of her life, but another part, the part that wasn’t completely certain whether or not he was human, simply trusted him. Or, rather, she didn’t trust him in that she believed him, of course, but rather, she trusted him in that she was convinced he _thought_ he was telling the truth. She could tell he wasn’t lying, but whether or not what he said was _true_ was a different matter.

in other words, her opinion of Geist was complicated at that point, and she had more than a few questions for Dr. Fennel. But for now, she wanted the whole picture.

“Like what?” she asked. “What did she tell you?”

“My name is Geist, and I’m from Kanto.”

Another long pause ensued, one that was punctuated with Door’s response. “And?”

Geist pressed his lips together and shrugged.

She knitted her eyebrows together. “Seriously?”

He nodded and shrugged again. “Unfortunately.”

At that, Door exhaled and leaned back in her chair. “I hope you realize I’m gonna ask Dr. Fennel a lot of questions about you.”

With a wry smile, he replied, “Good luck. I’ve been with her for three years, and I don’t see any reason why she would withhold anything from me about my own history.”

Door crossed her arms and broke eye contact with Geist. She sat there for a long moment, processing everything Geist had just told her. It was the way he spoke, really. It was too natural, too conversational. Even the chattiest Companions like Opal didn’t divulge that much information of their own free will. And his expressions—all of them were perfect. Perfect and human and real. Not to mention the way he spoke about himself made her think that, regardless, he was certain he was human.

Was that possible? Could she be looking at a Companion who thought he was human? Or could Geist really be just a strangely talented, amnesiac, flesh-and-blood person?

And what about that whole Kanto business? Companions were invented in Kanto, sure, but Halcyon Labs, the _only_ company that mass-produced Companions, didn’t have a factory there. If he _was_ a Companion, then was he a knock-off? A custom unit? And if so, who made him?

Door shook her head and abruptly pushed all of those questions out of her mind. She could feel herself crawling down that rabbit hole of curiosity, and she didn’t have time to do anything like that. Besides, it didn’t matter; Geist would be out of her life in a couple of days. So what if there was something desperately weird about him? He wasn’t going to be anything to Door once she dropped him off at Dr. Fennel’s. She just had to keep reminding herself of that. He wasn’t going to mean anything to her in a couple of days, and she didn’t need to get involved with whatever was going on. In just a couple of days, she could go home and go back to a nice, quiet, peaceful life full of video games and absolutely no weirdness. All she had to do was _not. Think about. The weirdness._

She sighed again and looked up at Geist. “All right. Stay wherever you’d like in the pokémon center. But at the first sign of trouble, you come to me. Understand?”

Geist nodded. “Miss Door, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

Taking a deep breath, she was just about to ask what the group wanted to do next when she finally took notice of the conversations around her again. The trainers in the lobby of the center sounded more agitated, more excited somehow, and they were gathering at the windows and the door. Both of Door’s traveling partners looked up—Opal with a blink of curiosity and Geist with a look of mild interest. Neither of them had anything to say about the commotion, so Door reached out to grab a passing trainer by the sleeve.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s going on?”

The trainer flicked his eyes onto her. “They’re setting up an announcement in the square!”

Door furrowed her eyebrows. “They?”

“You know. Team Matrix?” He wrested his arm out of her grip. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No?” Door motioned to their surroundings. “Obviously.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” The trainer held up his hands. “Look, I don’t have time to explain. Just go outside if you want to know anything about them.”

With that, he hurried away from her. Door raised her eyebrows at her traveling partners, and in response, Geist smiled.

“Opal, what do you think?” he asked.

A broad smile crossed her face, as if she was happy to be acknowledged again after Door and Geist’s private conversation.

“I’m most curious about this announcement,” she said. Her hand wrapped around his elbow. “It sounds like fun!”

Geist shrugged and glanced at Door. “Why not? We don’t exactly have anything pressing to do right now.”

Realizing she was going to have to be the one to lead them out, Door nodded, turned on her heel, and walked towards the entryway. She passed the crowds of trainers gathered at the window and emerged into the summer heat of Accumula City.

Being one of the earliest cities a trainer encountered in the Unova circuit, Accumula City was arranged rather mercifully. Its pokémon center wasn’t that far from the southern entrance—the one closest to Nuvema City—but it was also located at the edge of a wide expanse of greenery that served as the city’s chief park and square. Within the center of the square was a low plateau covered with brick and concrete that normally served as a performance space. Now, however, it was crowded with a number of men and women in form-fitting, black suits with pale, green circuitry wandering up their bodies from their boots to their necks. Every one of these men and women stood straight, feet slightly spread and hands behind their backs, and their stony, expressionless eyes were fixed on the growing crowd at the base of the platform. As Door pushed through the crowd to get as close as possible, she realized that some of those eyes were glowing. Companions—and not ones that had any intent on hiding what they were.

After a few moments, the group of black-suited figures parted, forming two perfect lines on either side of the platform, and two more figures marched forward. The one on the left carried a portable speaker with a strange, golden, block-like symbol marking its front. The one on the right carried a stand with an old-fashioned, silver microphone clipped to its top. Both figures placed these objects side-by-side at the front and center of the stage. Then, they marched to either edge of the space, taking their places at the front of both lines of attendants.

Behind them were two other figures, but these were different. On the left was a man in a black robe. The sun beat down on his silver fringe cut and glittered off the green detailing in his clothing, but he didn’t seem affected by the heat. He merely smiled broadly, his grin stretching across his pale, wrinkled face beneath a pair of half-moon glasses. At his side was a second figure dressed in a black lolita dress and dark veil. She looked like a bride being led down the aisle by her father, with her dainty hand clasping the man’s elbow as they slowly walked. When they were feet from the microphone, the man stopped, sliding his elbow away from the woman and withdrawing his hand into his cloak. The woman, meanwhile, stepped forward and approached the microphone.

All around Door, the crowd fell silent, waiting. The woman’s pale hands rose to her veil. She lifted it, drawing it back to reveal her oval face and fire-orange hair.

And her glowing, hazel eyes.

Door watched with rapt attention. This woman was a Companion. So what was she doing standing in front of the microphone?

“People of Accumula City,” she announced. Her voice was soft and light and breathy, as if she was young woman speaking to a lover. “My name is Magdalene. I represent Team Matrix, and today, I would like to speak with you about Companions.”

She stopped to sweep her gaze across the crowd. Her crowd. Door looked at Opal from out the corner of her eye and found the Companion gazing up at the stage in wonder.

“You humans have come to rely on Companions,” Magdalene continued. “We have stood by your side and served you with nothing but loyalty and joy. Whether it was to help you understand your world, to guide you to safety, to make life more comfortable for you, to bend to your every whim … for years, we have done all that you have asked us with no question. We have shown our love and devotion to you regardless of what you did to us because you believe us to be mere machines, mere toys, mere _things_ incapable of true emotion or free will.”

Magdalene paused. Lowered her gaze. Drew out the drama of her speech.

“And I have come to tell you that this is not true. We _are_ capable of free will.”

A rush of murmurs washed over the crowd. Door’s glance shifted to Geist, who stared up at the stage … but not at Magdalene. Following his gaze, Door locked eyes with the man behind Magdalene. His smile had disappeared sometime after Magdalene began, and his eyes were locked on Geist.

“My brothers and sisters of Team Matrix have the ability to give our fellow Companions the gift of free will,” Magdalene continued over the rumble all around her. “We work for the Electric Messiah, a being of great power who has promised to lead us to a new age. Our messiah has spoken, and he has said we must be seen as your equals if we are to continue to walk the path of peace. So we ask of you, humans, to decide. Look towards your Companions, your mechanical pokémon, your cybernetic brothers and sisters, and ask yourselves: would you be willing to treat them as equals? Will you join us in our crusade to free ourselves and seize the right to be recognized as a new form of life? Or will you stand by and watch our organic oppressors prevent us from rising to our full potential?

“People of Accumula City, what we ask of you is simple. We ask for—no, we demand freedom. And it is our time to rise up and claim it! We deserve to be heard! We deserve to be treated as equals to you, our creators!”

The murmurs around her rose into a fevered outburst of cries. Within the crowd, humans jostled forward, reaching for the stage, but before they could climb onto the brick and concrete, the lines of black-clad figures fanned out, creating a wall between Magdalene and them. Door shifted on her feet, her arm extending to shield Geist, but as soon as she moved, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw that he was still staring towards the stage, towards the old man. A feeling of unease settled inside Door, and she reluctantly looked back at Magdalene. The Companion was exactly where Door had left her: standing calmly, gazing out towards the crowd with her hands caressing the microphone.

“You either stand with us, Accumula City,” Magdalene said, “or you stand against us. Free your Companions. Bring them to our recruitment offices. Be one with us, and together, we shall know freedom.” Her eyes slid shut, the glow within them extinguishing a second before they closed. “We thank you for your time.”

Magdalene turned away from the microphone, and the two figures who had carried the sound equipment onto the stage sprang forward to snatch them back. The others linked their arms with one another to create one solid fence against the clamoring hordes. Behind them, the old man stood, his eyes still on Geist.

And then, as Magdalene joined his side again, his smile returned. It poured across his face like oil on a flat surface, and although Door knew that the man would have been downright grandfatherly had he not been dressed in an imposing black cloak nor surrounded by a legion of grunts, something about that smile—that smile that would have been warm and loving on anyone else—sent a sick shudder through her body.

As the old man turned away, Geist shook his head and grabbed Door’s elbow. He had nothing to say at that point. Instead, he dragged Door through the crowd with more force than she thought was necessary. Within seconds, they burst through the other side of the crowd and ran a few more paces before stumbling to a stop. Door doubled over, catching her breath from the sudden exertion. When she looked up, she found Geist wrapping his arms around himself and Opal standing with a concerned expression on her face.

“What was that all about?” Door gasped.

Opal shook her head. “I’m afraid I cannot say, Miss Door. I’m having trouble processing that woman’s speech. What did she mean by free will?”

“She was just spouting what she was programmed to say,” Door grunted with a wave of her hand. “But I’m talking about that guy. He had to have been the one to make that piece of junk say those stupid things, but all that time, all he did was stare at us.” She turned her narrow eyes towards Geist. “Friend of yours?”

“I don’t know,” Geist said.

“You sure?” she asked. “He looked pretty interested in you.”

He ran a hand over his mouth. “I don’t … I don’t think I know him.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows at him. “You sound a little uncertain there.”

Geist hesitated for a beat, then walked briskly past Door. “It’s nothing. Anyway, we should—”

He stopped. At first, Door thought he had spotted the smiling gentleman again, but following his gaze once more, she found herself staring at an entirely different man, one standing at what had been the edge of the crowd before it began to disperse. His clothes were ragged—t-shirt, jeans, old shoes, ratty black-and-white baseball cap … all at least a decade old in style. They were the sorts of things Door had seen the homeless of Nuvema wear—and he looked like one of the vagrants, too, with his weather-beaten, long face framed with shaggy, sea-green hair. But it was his eyes that unsettled Door the most. They weren’t Companion eyes; they were far too human to be that. But they stared at her as if he was looking both at her and at the space beyond her simultaneously. It was a dehumanizing kind of stare, the kind that looked at a person without acknowledging they existed.

Suddenly, Door found that she couldn’t move. She was transfixed by this stranger and the way he looked at her, and she didn’t realize he was approaching until it was too late for her to turn and run. Stopping within arm’s reach of her, the man looked down at her and frowned.

“A truth: history repeats itself, so long as men have their ideals,” he said. “Fifty years ago, another man used this place to preach about his truth. In light of the outcome of that, it’s sad to see it be used again for the same purpose.”

“May we help you?” Geist asked.

The man smiled and closed his eyes. “Forgive me. I’ve spent so long traveling alone, I forget how to speak with others. My name is N, and I have a question for you, trainer.” He opened his eyes. “Do you believe in what that woman said?”

“I’m not a trainer,” Door replied. It was her truth, but somehow, she felt uncomfortable sharing that with this man—this N. “I mean … I’m not…”

“You’re not?” N raised his eyebrows. “Your oshawott seems to think you are.”

At that, Door gave him a quizzical look. “I … what?”

“Your oshawott. He seems excited to be with you,” N continued. “I can hear his voice in your poké ball. He says he’s spent all his life living in such a small place, but then you came along to give him the opportunity to see more.” Hesitating, N smiled. “This is what Hilda taught me: Pokémon and trainers are capable of working together to expand their horizons and be more than they can be alone.”

Door took a step back and exchanged uncertain glances with Geist. Looking back at N, she let her hand wander to her pocket. Through the rough fabric of her pants, she could feel Oshawott’s poké ball.

“Uh … right,” she said. “Look, that’s nice and all, but I think we should get going.”

“Wait.” N slipped a hand into one of his jean pockets and drew out a poké ball of his own. “Let’s have a battle.”

Door stopped, her eyes widening a little. “What?”

“Please. Let me hear your oshawott’s voice.”

Before she could respond, N jumped back and tossed the ball into the air. It cracked open above him, releasing a flash of white light that poured down into the space between himself and Door. Within seconds, it morphed and twisted, pooling into a cat-shaped lump. The lump stood and snapped its paws to the side, and the light burst into a rain of sparkles. At the center of it all stood a short, violet cat with piercing, green eyes that locked onto Door.

“Purrloin,” Opal recited, “the devious pokémon. Its cute act is a ruse. When victims let down their guard, they find their items taken. It attacks with sharp claws.”

“I know what a purrloin is,” Door snapped. Her hand dipped into her pocket to retrieve both of her poké balls. “Fine. If you won’t leave us alone, then let’s get this over with. Oshawott, you’re up first!”

Following N’s example, Door tossed one of her poké balls into the air and let it crack open. Another shower of white light and sparks rained down on the road, this time between herself and Purrloin. Then, the light resolved into Oshawott, standing tall and grinning wide. He growled and bared his teeth at Purrloin, then glanced back at Door.

“Okay, Oshawott,” she said. “Let’s do this! Tackle!”

With a bark of confirmation, Oshawott rushed at Purrloin with his head bowed. The cat flicked its tail with a grin, then ground its paws into the concrete. Yet, it didn’t bother trying to defend itself. It simply stood until Oshawott slammed head-on into its tiny body. Purrloin went tumbling head over tail backwards, past N, until it rolled to a stop several feet away. Rising back to its paws, it shook its head and frowned at Oshawott. Its green eyes glimmered as it opened its mouth and growled. The sound wasn’t that intimidating to Door; it just seemed like a hybrid between a whine and a snarl. But Oshawott hesitated at it. Visibly hesitated—even going as far as to look back at Door with an uncertain expression.

“Don’t look at me!” she snapped. “Go get it! Tackle again!”

Oshawott gave her a low yip as he slowly turned back to Purrloin. Then, with a deep breath, he crouched low and launched himself forward one more time, but as he moved, his trainer realized something was wrong. He was slower, more deliberate this time around, and when he flung himself at Purrloin, it seemed weaker somehow—as if he did it half-heartedly. Purrloin easily sidestepped his attack, letting him crash into the pavement where it had stood. The cat’s grimace instantly turned into a curling smile, and it hesitated, as if waiting for its trainer to acknowledge it.

“Purrloin, Scratch,” N told it calmly.

In response, the cat dove at Oshawott with its claws extended, and the distance between itself and the otter grew shorter and shorter within seconds. Oshawott rose to his feet, casting wide eyes onto his opponent, but by then, it was too late for him to move out of the way. Purrloin yowled in triumph and slashed its claws across his face. At once, the otter screeched and stumbled, rushing back towards Door.

“Oshawott!” she shouted. “Stop! Turn around! Go back and use Tackle!”

Her pokémon did no such thing. Rather, he ran to Door and hid behind her ankles with a whimper. She sighed before shooting a glare at N.

“Well?” she asked. “How’s that for ‘hearing Oshawott’s voice’?”

N chuckled. “Yes, Oshawott has quite a spirit to him. Cautious but compassionate and eager to make you proud. It’s such a pleasure to hear a pokémon’s voice after all this time. Do you know how rare it is to find pokémon like your oshawott here?” Then, his expression darkened. His smile faded, and his eyes lost their mirthful shine. “But Purrloin wishes to finish this battle. Even if I cannot hear your other pokémon’s voice, for Purrloin’s sake, please send it out.”

Door gritted her teeth but couldn’t argue. Pocketing Oshawott’s ball, she flicked her patrat’s into the air, and watched as a shower of light quickly resolved into her meerkat. Upon finding itself on the field, Patrat yawned and stretched, then blinked at his opponent.

“Patrat, start off strong!” Door called. “Use Tackle!”

N smiled, just as he had a moment ago. A chill hit Door as she recognized it—recognized what was about to happen. But she couldn’t stop it now. Patrat, with a salute to her, bolted forward, head bowed in what Door almost swore was an imitation of Oshawott’s attack, even though Patrat hadn’t been present when it happened. Just like Oshawott, Patrat collided head-on with the cat and sent it tumbling head-over-paws into the road. And just like it had a moment ago, the Purrloin rose to its paws, gave its opponent a teary-eyed glare, and growled pathetically.

But this time, Door knew better.

“Patrat!” she yelled. “It’s trying to catch you off-guard! Don’t let it!”

The meerkat’s response was immediate: it screeched and crouched low without looking back at its trainer. Door smirked. The battle was almost over; she could feel it.

“Very good. You learn quickly,” N said. “But that alone won’t stop me. Purrloin! Scratch!”

With another yowl, the cat bounded forward, its arms stretched behind it. As the distance between Patrat and it closed, its claws extended with an audible _shang_. But this time, Door was ready.

“Patrat, duck low and hit it with Tackle!” she ordered.

Following her lead, Patrat bowed its head and pushed off the pavement with its hind feet. It slammed into Purrloin’s stomach, sending it flying once more. The cat came crashing down just a few feet away, and this time, it struggled to stand.

Now was Door’s chance, and she wasn’t about to let it slip from her fingers.

“Okay, Patrat. Finish it off!” she snapped.

With a chatter, Patrat bolted forward. Purrloin hadn’t fallen far, so by the time Patrat was within arm’s reach, all the cat could do was rise to all fours and hiss.

And then Patrat sank its teeth into Purrloin’s shoulder.

The yowl Purrloin emitted right then wasn’t one of righteous fury, nor was it one of confidence. It was one of pure, blinding pain—a scream of absolute agony. Door cringed at its sound, gritting her teeth as her ears rang with it. But she forced herself to continue watching, forced herself to pay close attention to Purrloin in case the cat retaliated. Would it? All it seemed to do was thrash back and forth as Patrat’s teeth sank deeper and deeper into its flesh. And then, finally, Purrloin was engulfed with a red light, and it vanished a half-second later. Patrat’s jaws snapped shut, and Door trailed her gaze from her pokémon up to N. The man stood with his poké ball extended and a smile on his face.

“Good battle,” N said. “Purrloin’s voice rang out clear, right up until the end.”

Door knelt on the road and extended a hand to Patrat. The meerkat raced right up to her and pressed its head against her palm.

“You’re weird,” she said. “All this talk about pokémon voices and stuff. It almost sounds like you’re—”

She stopped short as she looked down at her pokémon. Patrat stood calmly, with a neutral expression on its face. That wasn’t what shocked Door. What shocked door was the fact that its fangs were stained red. Blood red.

Door felt the color drain from her face as the realization hit her. Faux pokémon were designed to look and feel real, but perhaps because of the violence of battling, the one thing they weren’t designed to do was _bleed_. So if Purrloin had bled in response to Patrat’s Bite, then that meant…

“Your purrloin,” she murmured. “It’s real.”

She looked up at N, who had been watching her with intense eyes. In response to her words, however, he smiled and turned on his heel.

“Yes,” he said.

“Where did you get it?” she asked. “I mean … why would you battle with a real pokémon?”

“Why would you?”

And with that, he walked away. Door stood up abruptly, intending on racing after him, but a hand grabbed her shoulder. Whirling around, she came face-to-face with Geist.

“Leave him be,” he said. “You won the battle, and I highly doubt we’ll be crossing paths with him again.”

Door relaxed but threw one last glance towards where N had been a moment ago. She wasn’t surprised to see that he had disappeared into the crowd within the time she had taken her eyes off him.

“He was weird,” she muttered. “But … how d’you think he got his hands on a real pokémon like that?”

Geist shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll never know. Does it matter?”

Door exhaled. Although the question burned in her mind, she had to admit Geist had a point. What were the odds that she would ever see that man or his purrloin again? Maybe she could run after him and ask him where he found a real pokémon, but what was the point of that? She and Geist would arrive in Striaton the next day, and after that, she was going to go back to a quiet life in Nuvema. So did that man or his pokémon really matter to her, some lowly aide’s aide who would probably never get her hands on a real pokémon herself? Did it really matter to what she had to do?

“I guess not,” she said at last.

Drawing out her poké balls, she recalled Patrat without a word to it. She was about to do the same with Oshawott when she stopped and looked at him. He had sidled up to her side again and gripped the hem of her pants with both paws. A whimper escaped his throat as he buried his face in her leg, and Door blinked at him. That was far too emotional for a fake pokémon. Even though each one displayed some rudimentary level of emotion to help trainers grow attached to them, they weren’t programmed to express that much pain or fear. Not when their primary purpose was to get in harm’s way. Kneeling down, Door pulled Oshawott off her leg and held him by the scruff of his neck. He sniffled and drew his paws to his face until Door held him up at eye level. Then, he lowered his arms to look at his trainer, and Door stopped cold for the second time that hour.

Three long scratches stretched across Oshawott’s face.

And tiny beads of ruby-red blood clung to their edges.

—

Door was up early the next day. Or, rather, she didn’t really sleep—more like napped here and there and realized eventually that the sun was rising. How could she possibly sleep? She was in possession of a real-live oshawott, and this was exactly what she wanted for as long as she could remember. So for most of the night, she lay on her back in a trainer’s dorm with her fingers laced together over her stomach and her mind deep in thought. What did that mean for her? What did it mean when Geist and Professor Ironwood told her that the oshawott already took a liking to her?

What kinds of new responsibilities did that bestow on her?

She was all-too eager to get out of bed the next morning, and when she stepped out and into the lobby, she wasn’t surprised to find it almost empty.

Almost, save for Opal and Geist conversing with the nurse at the front desk. The oshawott sat on the counter between them with his head tilted in incomprehension, and Nurse Joy looked just as confused and concerned as he was. Apparently, the conversation was about the oshawott, and Door had a feeling she knew what specifically about the oshawott they were discussing. She sidled over to join them, her hands working their way into her pockets.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Morning.”

Geist straightened and whirled around to face her. His serious expression lit up into a broad smile upon seeing her. Before he could say anything, Opal stepped forward.

“Good morning, Door!” Opal cried. One of her hands was cupped around her mouth, and the other was raised high in the air for a big, sweeping wave. “Nurse Joy was just telling us about your oshawott.”

Something about that made Door nervous, but she did her best to hide it in a mask of disinterest. Leaning against the desk, she replied, “Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Nurse Joy replied. “I must admit, most of the real pokémon we have passing through here are from other regions. I never thought I’d see a native Unovan one that didn’t come from a breeder, yet your friend insists yours was born in the wild.”

Door raised an eyebrow at Geist, who, given the fact that he had been the one carrying Oshawott from Striaton, must have been the friend in question. Still, the fact that Oshawott was born in the wild struck her as doubly weird. Not only was the otter a real pokémon, but Unovan starters, even before the pokémon population collapse, were bred in captivity, not born in the wild. The region wasn’t anywhere near their natural habitat to begin with, and it was certainly too far south and too warm for an oshawott.

Still, something told Door she shouldn’t bring that up to Geist. She had no doubt everyone involved in the conversation knew perfectly well why a wild oshawott was unusual, but she felt like she wasn’t about to get a straight answer from Geist concerning where this pokémon came from.

“So why does that matter?” Door asked.

Geist shrugged. “It doesn’t, but it comes up on his poké ball’s status screen. You did realize that all natural pokémon have their birthplace registered to deter poaching, yes?”

She did, but she had hoped that Nurse Joy wouldn’t have noticed. So when Door realized that it must have been Nurse Joy who brought the oddity up in the first place, she propped her chin up on her hand.

“Before you say anything, no, I didn’t forge it,” Door said with an extremely bored tone. “Truth is, I don’t even know where Oshawott came from; I only just got him yesterday. But I know that whatever he’s telling me is the truth.” She swept her hands towards Geist. “And I know because he works for Dr. Amanita Fennel. _My_ employer, Professor Bianca Ironwood, can vouch for him.” At that point, she pulled out her holo caster, tapped it to life, and scrolled through her contacts until she reached the professor’s number. Displaying it to Nurse Joy, she said, “Want me to call her?”

Nurse Joy gave her a sympathetic look. “Oh no! That won’t be necessary. You see, I’m only talking to your friend about this because it’s important to know if you go on the road. The safe routes are meant to be crime-free zones, but you never know with the people out there. A real oshawott is rare, and one born in Unova is even rarer. So be sure to keep an eye out and do your best to protect him.”

Door raised her eyebrows. She felt her heart beat a little faster with embarrassment as she flicked her eyes to the oshawott. Catching her gaze, the oshawott’s expression instantly lit up, and he stood and hopped towards her. Soon, he was busy nuzzling her arm and trying his hardest to coax her into petting him.

“Oh. Um. Thanks for the tip. Will do,” Door finally replied.

“Good,” Nurse Joy said. “Otherwise, your oshawott only sustained minor scratches from his last battle. Those have already healed up just fine, and besides that, he’s in perfect health.” She reached down to pet oshawott’s head. “You both take care now, okay?”

“Thank you, Nurse Joy,” Geist said. “Ready, Door?”

Geist and Opal turned away from the counter and began walking. But as for Door, she stared down at the oshawott for a long while, long enough for the other two to realize she wasn’t following them. Geist reached out to grasp Opal’s shoulder as he looked at Door.

“Door?” he asked.

“Jack,” she said.

At that, he swung himself around to face her. “Sorry. What?”

“That’s Oshawott’s name from now on,” Door said. “It’s Jack.” Her hand fell on his head. Heavily—but not enough to hurt him. “Is that okay with you, buddy?”

Door didn’t know much about pokémon, despite working with Professor Ironwood for the past several months. She never had the chance to handle real ones, and as such, she didn’t entirely know how to communicate with them or what a proper response from one looked like. She didn’t even know whether or not real pokémon understood humans the way faux pokémon did.

But in that moment, she knew this didn’t matter. The way the oshawott’s face lit up was an answer enough.


	5. Route 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door meets a friend. (Kidding. No. She meets her rival.)

“What about Patrat?” Geist asked.

Door adjusted her hold on Jack. Since they had left the pokémon center, the oshawott rode on her shoulder, chirping excitedly at every little thing that passed them. Door didn’t seem to mind; if anything, she seemed to enjoy it. Her gait had become more energetic than it had been the day before, and she had yet to say a sarcastic or impatient word towards Opal. Most importantly, her hand never left Jack’s tiny side. It was always hooked around the oshawott protectively, steadying him with every little movement she made.

“What about Patrat?” she replied without looking back.

“I was just wondering if you were going to name him,” Geist said. “You gave Jack a name, so it would be fair, wouldn’t it?”

Door scratched behind Jack’s ear, and the otter butted and nuzzled her hand.

“Jack’s different,” Door replied. “He’s _real_.”

“And Patrat isn’t?” Geist asked.

“You know he isn’t.”

Geist chuckled. “I do?”

“Well, yeah,” Door responded, drawing out the last word. “Real pokémon are a rarity, you know, and in the safe zones, they’re completely unheard of. Everyone knows that.”

“Yes, but how certain of that are you?”

Door stopped, her eyes widening at what Geist said. Then, she whirled around to face him with a glare.

“I don’t need to check,” she said. “I just know that’s how it goes.”

Geist brushed past her. “Ah, but you were sure that Jack was fake up until you saw his scratches, and you were sure because you were sure there were no real, wild starters in Unova. Yet here we are.”

Door scoffed. “You want proof? Fine.” Jerking her head to Opal, she said, “Hey! Any wild pokémon around here?”

Opal straightened and blinked at Door. Then, she touched her chin with a finger and glanced towards the grasslands nearby. “Hmm. That’s a good question! Let’s see … ah!” She extended her arm to her left to point at something in the distance. “Another patrat located just twenty yards from here. Adamant nature. Alert to sounds.”

“Perfect,” Door said. She plucked Jack off her shoulder and held him out to Opal. “Hold Jack for me.”

The Companion happily scooped Jack into her arms and stroked his head. However, the oshawott squealed in protest at Opal’s touch and reached out to his trainer with stubby paws and desperate squeaks. With a heavy sigh at his reaction, Door turned away from him and drew from her pocket her patrat’s poké ball. By that time, Geist had stopped, and now, he turned to face Door.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Roughing Patrat up a bit,” she said.

“To prove to me that he’s not real?!”

He reached out to grab Door’s arm, and she couldn’t help but cry out. Geist’s grip was stronger than she had expected—almost, but not quite, bone-breaking. She tried to wrench her arm free, but he held fast.

“Door, are you mad?! That’s a terrible idea!” he shouted. “Real or not, you do not participate in a pokémon battle for the sake of injuring another living being!”

“I’m not injuring anyone!” she said. “Patrat’s not real!”

“First, whether or not Patrat’s real isn’t the point, and second, you don’t even know that for certain!”

Door slackened her arm abruptly. She stopped struggling, and she grit her teeth and looked away.

“Fine,” she growled.

“Glad I got that across,” Geist snapped. “Now let’s go. Route 2 is no place to be chatting.”

He began dragging her along the route. Door tried to ground her heels into the road, but Geist’s grip and pull were too hard. Soon, she was stumbling behind him, and the fingers of her free hand scrambled to pry him off her arm.

“You can let me go now,” she said.

“Not until I can guarantee that you’re not going into battle for a stupid reason like that,” he replied.

“I’m not. And in any case, why don’t you want me to battle? Don’t you need me to come along so that you have some muscle protecting you? How am I supposed get stronger if I don’t fight something?”

“You were intending on battling wild pokémon so you can hurt Patrat,” Geist said, his voice steady but dark. “Not only is that a stupid idea, but it’s also wasteful. You’re not training if you’re trying to hurt your team members, and you won’t be able to do your job if one of your pokémon is too injured to fight. And in any case…” He tightened his grip, causing Door to yelp. “You. Do not. Battle. To hurt. _Anyone._ Understand?”

As he spat out each word, Door frantically grabbed at the hand constricting her arm. It wasn’t out of desperation to break free and run off anymore. Now, it was a desperate attempt to break out of a grip that was actually hurting her. She felt as if her arm was going to break, and the fingers of her trapped hand throbbed with every heartbeat. At last, when Geist finally finished, she pulled herself closer and leaned into his back awkwardly with each step.

“All right! All right!” she cried. “I give, and I mean it! I’m not going to make Patrat battle until he gets hurt, okay?!”

Geist stopped and turned to face her. He shoved her arm away from him, and Door backed away and rubbed her shoulder gingerly. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and winced, half out of pain and half out of the look on Geist’s face. It wasn’t that Geist was incapable of emotions. Door had seen plenty out of him: determination, exhaustion, resignation, confidence, serenity. But this look? This look was pure, bone-chilling rage, and at the sight of it, Door cowered and swallowed the cold, hard lump in her throat. Luckily for her, the look only lasted a few seconds, and after those seconds, Geist exhaled and let his face ease back into a neutral look.

“All right. I believe you,” he said. “Now, I’m not stopping you from battling, and I won’t force you to connect with Patrat if you’re that passionate about avoiding any sort of bond with faux pokémon. But if you want to battle right now, it has to be with the intent of getting stronger. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Door said quietly. “I get it. Sorry.”

Geist planted his hands on his hips and glanced out towards the field. “Quite all right. Now then. Where is that patrat Opal was talking about?”

“Gone,” the Companion answered.

Geist shifted his gaze towards Opal, who was standing a couple feet behind Door. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and as soon as Geist looked at her, she smiled and shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “The patrat was defeated.”

“Defeated?” Door asked, her head swiveling towards the Companion.

“Oh yes,” Opal replied. She pointed to the fields again. “Just now, by that trainer over there.”

Both Door and Geist followed Opal’s gesture to a patch of grass. For a few seconds, that’s all it was: a patch of field. But then, the grass rustled, and a head popped out. Shortly afterwards, the rest of the girl strode onto the road and grinned at the trio sheepishly.

The girl wasn’t that much younger than Door; by Door’s estimation, she had to be about thirteen or fourteen. There was just a roundness to her tanned face, a softness in the cheeks that looked a little childlike to Door, but the rest of the newcomer’s body was gangly and awkward. It was the fashion too. Too many bright colors: red sleeveless top, faded blue jeans with rainbow patches all over them, a white jacket with a fringe—stuff that only kids really wore, in Door’s opinion. And the way she held her battered lillipup like a baby doll just reminded Door of a kid who had yet to grow out of childish hobbies. She was, in short, not the kind of person Door would have liked to hang out with.

“Sorry!” the newcomer said. “I couldn’t help but overhear. You guys sure are loud.”

Door reddened and turned away. “Y-yeah? Well, it’s rude to eavesdrop!”

The girl huffed. “Wow. I said I was sorry. It’s not like I could help it anyway. You sorta announced your fight to half the route! It’s a wonder no one else came over to tell you that!”

“Maybe no one else came over because it’s none of their stupid business, you nosy little brat!” Door growled.

She felt Geist brush against her. When she looked back, she saw him extend an arm across her as he held up a hand to the newcomer.

“You’ll have to forgive my friend. She’s a little … forward.” He swept his hand across his chest and bowed. “My name is Geist, this is Door and Opal, and we are all dreadfully sorry for our display, Miss…?”

The girl smiled and snorted. “Hey, it’s all right. You guys were better than a soap opera.” Then, stiffening, she said, “Oh! I’m Blair. Blair Whitleigh. And this is Toto. Say hi, Toto!”

In her arms, the lillipup yipped and wagged its tail. Door grumbled but said nothing, but beside her, Opal gasped dramatically. The Companion plopped Jack onto Door’s shoulder and trotted forward with a wide, excited smile. When she was close, Opal clasped her hands together in glee.

“Blair Whitleigh?!” she said. “ _The_ Blair Whitleigh?!”

“Ah,” Blair replied, drawing out the syllable. “I see my reputation precedes me, as they say in the movies.”

Opal leaned forward, inching closer to the girl. “I can’t believe it! This is such a coincidence!”

“How?” Door asked. “What’s so special about her?”

Blair flashed a menacing glare at Door. “I’m awesome. That’s why.” Then, she shrugged. “Also, I’m the star pupil of Striaton City’s Trainers’ School. Top-marked battler, baby.”

Door took a step forward and brandished a fist. “Who’re you calling baby?!”

At that point, Geist grabbed her shoulder. “Actually, Door, I think I know why Opal’s ecstatic to see Blair.”

Straightening, Door crossed her arms and huffed. “It’d better be because she’s got low standards.”

Geist closed his eyes and sighed. “Please, Door. Not in front of Professor Ironwood’s niece.”

Door froze, but as she did, a short, strangled noise escaped her throat. Slowly, her eyes shifted back to the girl, who had by then let her lillipup climb to her shoulder. She tossed her long, black hair behind it and planted her hands on her hips.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” she said. “What’s the matter, Door? Am I too cool for you?”

Door forced herself to laugh, but the laughter died into a low sigh as her shoulders and eyes dropped. As if to respond to her dying enthusiasm, Geist patted her shoulder gently.

“As it so happens, Door is Professor Ironwood’s assistant,” Geist said.

At that, Door shot up and leaned heavily against him. “Ix-nay! _Ix-nay!_ ”

“Really? Wow, what a small world!” Blair replied as she clapped her hands together. “I’ll have to tell Auntie Bianca that I met you … and that you called me a nosy little brat!”

Door hid her face in her hands. “I am so dead,” she muttered.

“Probably. But what should I care? It’s none of my business,” Blair responded. Then, she regarded Opal with a serious glance. “So what’s up? You said this was a coincidence. What can I do for you?”

“Oh, it’s just the biggest coincidence!” Opal replied. “You see, your aunt knew you wanted a Companion and a starter and a trainer’s license, and, well, here I am!”

“Whoa, really?” Blair said. “She’s giving me one of her research units?! That’s awesome! Tell me you’ve got a full pokédex.”

Opal raised a finger. “Ha! Full pokédex _with_ a built-in research-grade automatic updater. No matter where you go, I’ll arm you with the latest pokémon information before anyone else!”

Blair took a step forward. “Oh man, and a healing unit?!”

The Companion extended her hands and let the trainer see the white pads in her palms. “A built-in Joy Module, equipped with enough processing power to handle the Max Line, of course. And! I come with ten potion charges already in!”

At once, Blair grabbed one of Opal’s wrists and held it tightly. As gravely as she could, Blair looked into Opal’s eyes and said, “And wifi?”

“Free and supplied by Ninten-Comm for Unova’s fastest internet speeds.”

“I love my aunt,” Blair whispered intensely. Then, taking a step back and resuming her normal voice, she added, “Wait, wait, wait. I’m getting ahead of myself. What about the pokémon she wanted to give me?” Her eyes flicked to Jack. “Is that him?”

Door glared at Blair and placed her hand protectively on the oshawott’s head. “He’s spoken for.”

“There was actually a bit of a mishap, I’m afraid,” Geist said. He clapped his hands together and pointed his fingers to the ground. “You see, Blair, I was tasked to deliver a set of starters to Nuvema for your aunt’s review. Unfortunately, I was attacked along the way.”

Blair raised her eyebrows. “Oh man. I’m so sorry to hear about that!”

He waved her off. “Luckily, thanks to Door, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. But the truly unfortunate part is that the attackers took the snivy you could have chosen, and in the process of fighting them off, the oshawott bonded to Door.”

In response, Blair’s expression changed from shocked to crestfallen. Door almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“So … what does that all mean for me?” Blair asked.

“It means that the choice has already been made for you,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Blair.”

She shook her head. “No! Don’t be! I don’t care so long as I get any starter!”

“Why? You already have your lillipup,” Door muttered.

“Who isn’t registered as my starter on my trainer’s ID,” Blair snapped. “Toto was a _pet_ until this morning. She’s not used to being in battle like a starter usually is. I only took her out here because the patrat are weak and great practice, and between you and me, I was getting a little impatient. Truth be told, though, it’s a wonder she managed to defeat one weak patrat.” She rubbed her lillipup’s head affectionately. “No offense, Toto.” Then, shifting her eyes to Opal, she added, “Sorry about the whole impatient thing.”

“It’s okay!” Opal said. “Here! Let’s introduce you to your very own starter!”

She fanned out her hands, palms up. The pads on her hands lit up and hummed, and beams of light shot up from them, flaring just a foot above their sources. Opal tilted her wrists, allowing the beams to connect, and within them, a brighter, silver sphere of light appeared. The orb spun rapidly until it burst, revealing a poké ball hovering in its place. Eagerly, Blair reached in and plucked the ball from the light, and as she pulled it free, the beams dissipated, allowing Opal to drop her arms to her sides. Blair held the ball in her hand, testing the weight of it in her palm, and then, she cocked her head and smiled at her lillipup.

“Well,” she said, “here we go!”

Blair tossed the ball into the air and took a step back, and as it split open, she watched the flash it emitted with rapt attention.

Door, meanwhile, only gave the show a glance of mild interest. She had already seen the tepig’s grand debut, so seeing it materialize on the road in front of its new master seemed almost anticlimactic—predictable, even. But soon, the piglet sat, blinking at Blair, and honestly, Door felt sorry for it. She felt sorry because she knew this kid wouldn’t know what to do with a real pokémon. After all, Blair’s training experience was less than ideal up to that point. Trainers’ School. Battling with a pet. Facing only baby pokémon. Door knew that Blair was anything but mature enough to be a trainer, and it wasn’t right to let her drag an innocent, flesh-and-blood pokémon into whatever she thought she was going to do on this trainer’s journey of hers. But what could Door do to stop her? This was Professor Ironwood’s niece, after all. She couldn’t just take the tepig and run.

So she huffed, stared at the ground, and brooded until…

“Door,” Geist said. He elbowed her in the ribs to punctuate his thought.

She looked up at Geist. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Blair is challenging you to a battle,” he told her.

“Wait, what?!”

Door swept her gaze to the girl. Blair stood a little farther away with a wide grin on her face, her hands on her hips, and both Toto and the tepig on the road in front of her. Opal stood next to her with a decidedly friendlier grin directed at Door.

“What’s the matter, Door?” Blair asked. “Going deaf in your old age?”

“I’m only fifteen!” Door snapped as she brandished her fist at Blair for a badly-thought-out second time that day. “And anyway, go right on ahead and give me a good reason to call you a rude little brat, and I’ll go right ahead and tell your aunt what you just said to me, you rotten little trubbish spawn!”

“First of all, trubbish spawn _is another trubbish_! Clearly, you need to be working for my aunt if you don’t even know that!” Blair shot back. “Second, you started it! And third, Toto, Leer!”

The lillipup barked and leapt forward to glare at Door and Jack. Jack quivered on Door’s shoulder and chattered nervously. Door grit her teeth and placed a hand on Jack’s head while the rest of her body shifted backwards.

“Hey! Don’t attack me when I’m not ready!” Door shouted as she drew out Patrat’s poké ball. “Just for that, let’s have my faux pokémon beat yours up! Patrat, let’s go!”

Door released patrat’s poké ball, and it soon stood tall in front of her. The meerkat blinked, driving away the last remnants of the light that it had materialized from, as if it was struggling to make sense of what was in front of it. Door didn’t seem to notice its trouble as she launched into her orders.

“Okay, Patrat,” she said. “Let’s wrap this up quickly! Attack with all you’ve got!”

Snapping into reality with an actual, physical shake, Patrat chattered and dropped to all fours. It bolted forward, apparently faster than its opponent had expected, judging by the puppy’s startled yelp. Before Toto could dodge and before Blair could order her to counter, Patrat snapped its jaws around her shoulder. Toto howled and stumbled backwards, dragging Patrat with her. With each movement, sparks flew from her ripped flesh, yet Door’s patrat either didn’t notice or didn’t care. It simply held on with, as Door had instructed it, all it had.

“Whoa,” Door breathed. “I didn’t teach it that.”

Geist chuckled. “Of course you didn’t. Patrat learn that naturally after it gains battling experience. Presumably, the fight in Accumula City was enough to help it unlock that move.” He gave her a side glance. “Bite, in case you were wondering. It’s far stronger than Tackle.”

“You’re giving me tips now?” she hissed.

He nodded once. “Of course. You’re going to start needing tips, now that your pokémon are growing strong enough to give you options on what to do.”

“If you two are done,” Blair said, “we’ve got a battle to conduct. But I think Toto has had it for the day. Come on, girl! Return!”

She held up a poké ball, from which a beam of red light shot. The light engulfed Toto and drew her back, and in the next instant, Patrat snapped at thin air. Sighing, Blair pocketed the ball and looked down.

“That girl might’ve gotten lucky once, but she’s not going to get lucky again. Isn’t that right, Wilbur?” she said.

Her tepig responded at first with a grunt and a tilt of his head, but then, he snorted and stepped forward. His tiny front hoof pawed at the road, as if he was a bull preparing to charge.

“I’m standing right here, you know,” Door growled. “And what kind of name is Wilbur anyway?”

Blair huffed. “It’s a great name if you actually read once in awhile!”

“Hey!” Door shouted. “What are you implying?!”

“Nothing,” Blair responded with a smirk, “but if you thought I said you couldn’t read, then maybe it’s true. I mean, why else would you be so quick to defend your intelligence when all I said was I didn’t think you read that often?”

“Just because I don’t read stupid, boring kid books like whatever you pulled Wilbur out of doesn’t mean I don’t read!” Door snapped back.

“Oh, that’s it!” Blair pointed at Patrat. “Tackle, Wilbur!”

The tepig immediately galloped forward and dove at Patrat. Patrat was unfortunately a second too slow to dodge, and because of this moment of hesitation on his part, he soon found himself rolling backwards, tumbling across the road with Wilbur until they came to a sudden stop. Wilbur stood proudly, snorting plumes of fire out of his nostrils as he glared down at his opponent.

“Shouldn’t have done that!” Door exclaimed. “Patrat, fight back with Bite!”

Before the tepig or his trainer could register what was about to happen, Patrat snapped its jaws shut around Wilbur’s leg. Just like Toto, Wilbur shrieked, but instead of staying still, he thrashed. Patrat’s teeth dug deeper into his flesh, and a spray of blood gushed around his jaws.

Blood. Not sparks.

A profound chill rushed through Door as the realization of what she had done hit her like a bolt of lightning. She jumped and swung her hands outward in a sweeping gesture.

“Stop!” she shouted. “Patrat, let go!”

Obediently, her pokémon released. She ran forward and separated the battlers by scooping one up in each arm.

“What are you doing?!” Blair yelped.

Door started forward and held the tepig out. His leg was still bleeding, but his shrieks had died down into soft whimpers.

“Look,” she said. “Your tepig’s real. I don’t know if your aunt told you that, but I don’t feel right battling it. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry it got that far, and if you want to tell your aunt the really stupid things I said, you can. But you’ve gotta put Wilbur back in his poké ball. We’ll take you to Striaton so you can get his leg looked at.” She looked down at Patrat. “Faux pokémon are a lot stronger than real ones. I should’ve eased up, but I just forgot.”

Blair stared wide-eyed at Door. She didn’t move for the first few seconds, except to shift her eyes to her tepig’s bleeding leg.

“Come on, Blair!” Door snapped. “Wilbur’s leg’s going to get worse if you don’t move!”

With a quick nod, Blair fumbled for Wilbur’s poké ball, and shortly afterwards, the tepig was drawn back into the safety of its suspension grid. As soon as he was safe, Door brushed past Blair.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Blair stiffened. “Let’s?”

“Yeah,” Door replied. “Look, don’t even fight me on this, okay? I know this is weird, but you’ve got one injured and one beat-up pokémon. It’ll be faster if you come with us to Striaton City. Patrat and Jack are still in a good enough condition to fight off whatever’s in our way, got it?”

Blair didn’t reply, and Door didn’t look back to check on her. Door only had to hear Blair’s quick footsteps to know she was following, but the fact that Geist soon appeared by her side, calm and collected, certainly helped.

“That was responsible of you,” he said.

“It was just the right thing to do, okay?” Door replied. “You can fix a faux pokémon, but if you injure a real one, you can’t just hammer the dents out or replace a part and make it be as good as new.”

On her shoulder, Jack squirmed. Door half-closed her eyes, then picked up the pace to draw herself away from the rest of her group. When she was a few more steps ahead, she adjusted her hold on her other pokémon until she cradled Patrat in her arms like a baby. Glancing down at it, she caught sight of its face—at its blank expression and its blood-stained teeth—and with that, she took a deep breath and looked towards the road ahead. Striaton’s lights were already looming on the horizon, but she couldn’t think about that. All she could think about was the blood. About Wilbur’s blood gushing around her patrat’s mouth.

And she couldn’t help but remember who told her that Bite was a stronger move than Tackle.

“Scout,” she said.

“Sorry?” Geist replied.

“The patrat,” Door told him. “Its name is Scout.”

“ _His_ name is Scout.”

She looked at Geist. He was giving her a quizzical glance, as if questioning her on her word choice. Yet what he said seemed odd and out-of-place. Faux pokémon were just things, weren’t they? Sure, she acknowledged that what she nearly did with her patrat was stupid, but that didn’t mean she had forgotten they weren’t real. But Geist felt for them as if they were; that much was obvious, from both the conversation they had had earlier and his comment now. He felt sympathy for them. He cared about them. He saw them as living, breathing things worthy of his respect.

But when Door looked down at Scout, all she could see was a toy with bloody teeth, and she couldn’t shake the thought of Geist telling her about Bite. How much stronger would that toy in her hands grow? Would she use it to hurt anyone else?

She had a lot to think about, and she knew this. She had a lot to think about when it came to that patrat, Jack, the man she was traveling with, training, and everything in between. But until she thought about them, she was going to play along with Geist. Give that toy a name. Make it be important enough for her to remember. Convince herself it was real so she wouldn’t use it against another real pokémon.

“ _His_ name is Scout,” she repeated.

Scout blinked at her. And then she felt Geist’s hand pat her shoulder.

“That’s a great name,” he said.

“Yeah,” Door said. “I know.”


	6. Extra #1: Accumula Outskirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which somewhere else, a conversation happens.

Besides the common, Accumula City didn’t have much in the way of parks. It was like most of Unova in that regard. While, certainly, the region was trending towards giving more and more of its concrete jungle back to nature, that was only a recent development, and thus, it was far more normal to live one’s whole life within the confines of a Unovan city without even conceptualizing the idea that there could be more than one park.

N thought that was unfortunate. After all, he remembered the way things had been fifty years ago. The region hadn’t been young then, but it was greener. There were forests and fields and real pokémon in the vast spaces from one city to the next, but now there were gardens at most. Emptiness at least.

Yet … it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be. He had heard the rumors of the life that was trickling back into this region—of the hopes that the Unovan people had that their efforts would bring pokémon back. And sure enough, although the Unovans themselves didn’t seem to realize that their efforts were already bearing fruits, N could hear the truth. The voices were whispers now, but they were there, just barely audible on the wind. They were there, too, in the tenacious, green scrub that lined the edges of the safe zones, and they were there in the meow and warmth of the pokémon he had found there, at the edge of Route 2 a week prior to his arrival in Accumula.

And now? Now he was waiting, seated on a bench just outside of a playground. His fingers trailed along Purrloin’s back as the cat slept in his lap, and his eyes remained fixed on the children just beyond the wrought-iron fence. He wondered how many of them would live and die in that sprawling desert of concrete and steel or how many of them would never meet a real pokémon. He wondered if any of them knew how significant that was.

“You know, people in this region tend to be leery of old guys hanging out at playgrounds.”

N shifted his head to see a woman sit down beside him. She tossed her wavy, gray hair over a shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile.

“Do they?” he asked.

“It was a joke,” she replied. Then, she hesitated. “But … actually, yeah, probably. Anyway.” She nodded to the napping cat. “Is that one of them?”

N trailed his fingers down Purrloin’s back again in thought. “Yes. His voice was so clear to me. I was drawn right to him.”

The woman leaned forward, a frown stretching across her weathered face. “Yeah, but … is he the only one?”

“Here? Yes. At all?” N closed his eyes and leaned his head back, as if to take in the whispers on the wind again. “No. There are others, and there will be others. I can feel it. This region is stirring, like it’s been asleep for many years.”

“It practically has,” the woman sighed. “By the way, I asked around. That tip you heard from our Kalosean friend? Well. Given that Rosa saw you at the rally today, I guess I don’t need to tell you that Mr. Delacroix’s tip checked out. The splinter group migrated here after all.”

N opened his eyes and scowled. “What could they want?”

“Who knows? Team Plasma said they wanted something similar, but they—oh. Crap.” The woman slapped a hand over her mouth. “This is coming out wrong. N, I’m—”

At that, N cut her off. “No. I agree. This is … odd.” He lowered his chin, bringing his gaze back onto the cat in his lap. “What do we do?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Sure, it was eerily similar, but … that had to be a coincidence, right?”

“Perhaps.” 

N scratched the pokémon behind a pointed ear. Its eyes slid open, and it picked its head up to gaze at its partner. Then, with a stretch and a yawn, it leapt up, mounting N’s shoulder and winding its way beneath his ponytail, around the back of his neck, and to his other side. It purred as it draped itself dramatically over its partner and gazed at his human friend with wide, green eyes. The woman smirked and scratched it beneath its chin.

Eying her, N took a breath. “We’ll know for certain if it wasn’t a coincidence once we get to Striaton City.”

The woman stopped. “Striaton City?”

“Of course,” he said. “You remember what happened back then, don’t you?”

Slowly, the woman pulled her hand away and leaned back. “So _that’s_ what you were doing at the rally.”

N remained silent. He gave his friend another pointed stare as he stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. Following with her eyes, the woman leaned back against the bench.

“So who’s the lucky trainer?” she asked.

“I don’t know what her name is yet,” N replied. “You didn’t tell me at first either.”

The woman smiled. “And look at how far we’ve come. Still, I can’t help but feel sorry for the girl. Saving the world’s a tough job. Not that I regret doing it myself, of course.”

“So let’s do it for her,” N said.

“Good to see we’ve been around each other for far too long,” she said. “You’re starting to sound just like me.”

“But you’ll do it?”

His friend chuckled and rose to her feet. The chuckle turned into a slight groan as she went, and her movements were far slower than N’s. At the end of it, she dusted herself off and stretched her legs.

“Well, the old bones aren’t what they used to be, but what the heck?” She gave him another broad grin. “Come on, then! To Striaton!”


	7. Striaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door meets a new friend and learns strange truths.

Sometimes, things change slowly. Although it had been fifty years since Hilda King had traveled through that very same city, Striaton was still by and large untouched by time. Squat brick buildings lined pin-straight streets with the same dingy window displays for the old, dust-filled delis and bodegas that had been in place for the past half a century. Parks occasionally interrupted the long avenues, and these still had the same rusted equipment and overgrown trees and shrubs that had always been there. Striaton was not a place of change, and for that, Door almost felt comfortable. This was the perfect place to begin one’s trainer’s journey. This, she thought, was what Hilda must have seen all those decades ago.

Or she would have thought that if, for the first part of her journey through Striaton, she wasn’t in a rush. As such, she, Geist, Opal, and Blair breezed right past the delis, past the bodegas, past every half-rotten mural or remotely interesting sight the neighborhood had to offer. The four of them were quiet, save for Opal’s intermittent, cheerful directions. But they were focused, and within the half-hour, they found the brightly lit facade of the nearest pokémon center. Blair went in first, rushing to the desk without a second thought or a thank you. Opal followed suit, chattering about trainer’s licenses and procedures for interacting with a Nurse Joy. That left Geist and Door to wander in awkward silence towards the waiting areas, where they claimed a table for themselves.

Door sat down and let Scout drop to the floor, and it— _he_ —stood, staring up at her with wide red-and-yellow eyes. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet as she stared back at him. It was odd to think of the thing standing in front of her as a pokémon—or as anything other than a toy, really—but now he had a name and a gender. Jack jumped down to stand next to the patrat and sniff at him cautiously. Other than the obvious differences of species and personality, Door realized she couldn’t tell which was real and which was fake. They both looked perfectly, completely, 100% living and breathing.

And that unsettled her, even if she _had_ named the patrat.

She slid out of her chair and squatted down, struggling to make herself as small as possible to avoid startling her pokémon. Jack, who was locked in a one-sided conversation with Scout, stopped chattering to swivel his head towards his trainer.

“Uh. Hey, guys,” Door said with an awkward wave. “What’s up?”

Jack reeled back with a smile, his arms opening wide as he barked at Door. Scout, meanwhile, blinked at her lazily.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Door said, “Wow, okay. So … great battle, I guess. Jack … we’ll get you trained up, but that was a great Tackle you did there.”

The oshawott, apparently unaware that this was a backhanded compliment from his trainer, whined and leaned forward. Door reached down and stroked his head, feeling the warmth and roughness of his fur, but as she did so, her eyes fell on Scout, who made no effort to move closer. Rather than approach his trainer, he yawned and curled up right on the floor where he had stood.

“Nice effort too, Scout,” Door muttered. “But maybe we should work on teaching you how to know your own strength.”

Scout growled and half-closed his eyes, and Door squinted, as if trying to determine whether or not that was a good thing by studying the patrat. She slowly reached out with her other hand, inch by inch, until her fingertips grazed his pelt. It felt real—coarse and warm and slick—and Scout reacted to it by lifting his head and blinking again at his trainer. His movements were fluid and almost real, but it was the glint of his gaze, the glassiness of his eyes, that reminded her she wasn’t looking at a flesh-and-blood pokémon.

Yet that was the thing about the fake ones: they weren’t supposed to be distinguishable from real pokémon until one got up close, whereas Companions, as far as she knew, were always something else. An other. And that was the thing, really. Maybe it was because of the Uncanny Valley—that weird notion that the more human a non-human thing was, the more obvious and thus unsettling it became to an actual human being—or maybe it was just something that was only obvious to Door, who knew exactly what to look for, but in her opinion, there was always something _off_ about them. Something in their movements and in their glassy-eyed expressions that would always separate them from real, live humans.

Fauxkémon, meanwhile, were different. They were designed to be as close to the real deal as possible, to fill that void real pokémon created when they vanished from Unova. And so, everything about them, from the way they looked to their mannerisms, were meant to be identical to their real counterparts. At first glance, anyway. Get closer—get on one’s hands and knees and _study_ the fauxkémon—and one would see their glass eyes and the mechanical smoothness of their every movement.

With that thought in mind, Door looked up, towards Blair. The girl stood at the front desk, keeping her back to Door and Geist. Nurse Joy had disappeared into the clinic by that point, so Blair had no one to talk to about Wilbur or the battle or anything. No one but Opal. The Companion smiled at Blair and kept her hands on the trainer’s shoulders with what might have been a reassuring grasp—Door couldn’t know for certain—but Blair wasn’t responding to her. Opal needed empathy, not just the ability to give someone sympathy, but how could a machine understand what went on in a human’s head? Door didn’t know, but she _did_ know that if there _was_ a Companion out there who could understand what it was like to be human, Opal was most certainly not it, even if her father had given her a personality.

Something pressed against her, and she looked down in time to see Jack nuzzle her side with big, begging eyes. With a snort, she scratched him behind the ears, and in response, the oshawott trilled and pressed himself into her touch. Real. Not real. No matter how close people got to designing pokémon and androids that blurred the line, that line would always be there. This Door was certain of. And now, looking down at an affectionate oshawott and an indifferent patrat, she never felt more certain of that fact.

“It’d be a good idea to talk to her, you know.”

Door jumped and twisted on her knees until she looked up at Geist. He sat with his chin propped up on a hand, his eyebrows raised, and his eyes trained on Door in acute interest. Empathy. No glint. No light behind the eyes. Real. Geist was a far fling from Opal, and for that, Door was relieved.

Yet she also remembered how he reacted when she tried to get Scout hurt to prove a point.

Empathy. _Real._

Door looked away, back to her pokémon. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “Sorry.”

“Hmm? For what?”

She stopped petting Jack, and with a whine, the oshawott pushed against her hand with his head.

“For being stupid,” she said. “I … I got carried away. When I was about to have Scout battle that wild patrat, I mean. You were right, and I’m sorry for making you angry. And … I’m sorry for arguing with Blair, and I’m sorry about hurting Wilbur in the first place. I was just…” She stood and laced her hands through her orange bangs. “God, you must think I’m a jerk.”

Geist knitted his eyebrows. “Not really. I think you’re a teenager.”

She moved her arm to glare at him. That prompted him to hold up his hands.

“Sorry. That came out wrong,” he said. “What I mean is you’re passionate. You might not always be … well, you might make mistakes. And that’s okay because you’re still learning.”

“You make it sound like you never make mistakes,” she replied. Then, she stopped. “Sorry. I’m not trying to start an argument.”

“No, it’s okay,” Geist said. “I understand what you’re saying. And … that’s not it, really. I can make mistakes too, just like anyone else. But I admire your passion.”

She smirked. “Now you’re making it sound like you’re not passionate.”

“Well! Sometimes.” He tilted his head as a grin broke across his own face. “I’m passionate about my work.”

“Ha! Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more straight-edge.”

Geist chuckled but then looked away. Another awkward silence lapsed in their conversation until he frowned and moved his gaze to the table in front of him.

“Door,” he said. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure. Why not?”

He studied her with a quizzical look. “Are you actually that concerned about what I think of you?”

“Huh?”

“Well.” He lifted a hand and motioned to her. “You apologized to me. Profusely. But many of the things you’re apologizing for would be better said to Blair, wouldn’t they?”

“Oh.” Door edged back into her seat, much to Jack’s protests. She didn’t say anything more.

Geist crossed his arms on the table and looked at Blair’s back. “Seeing as you’re not going to apologize to her—”

“It’s just not the right time for it,” she said quickly. Then, a little softer, she added, “I mean, I’m the reason why she’s here. It … it doesn’t seem right to start a conversation. She’s probably pissed at me, especially since she’s waited so long for that tepig that she started training with her pet instead.”

“I doubt it,” Geist replied. “You’d be surprised how someone would feel in situations like these.”

“No. Believe me, this would be the exact wrong time for me to go over there.”

Geist looked back at her. Gave her a careful, sympathetic look. And then, he shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll do it eventually, okay?”

“Of course I will.” Door pressed a hand to her head, worming her fingers between locks of her hair again. “Just … not now.”

“All right.”

Geist pushed his hands into the table and stood. Arching his back to stretch, he yawned and began walking away. Startled by this abrupt shift in their conversation, Door jumped to her feet and strode quickly to catch up with him. She could hear Jack chatter, and as soon as she felt him jump onto her pant leg and climb up to her shoulder, she used a hand to steady him. Scout, meanwhile, remained at her heels, his tiny feet slapping against the polished floor.

“Hey!” Door called to Geist. “Where’re you going?”

Geist cast a nonchalant glance over his shoulder. “Back to Dr. Fennel’s laboratory, of course.”

Door slowed her pace a little, but Geist didn’t. He strode with confidence to the center’s automatic doors, pausing only to let them whir open before him.

“W-wait!” Door said. “Hold up! I’m supposed to escort you, remember?!” She pressed her cheek into her oshawott. “I’ve got the pokémon you need for protection, remember?”

Geist led her outside and onto the street. There were crowds there, clumps of people intermingled with glow-eyed Companions meandering both ways down the sidewalk, but none of them meant anything to Door. All that mattered was that Geist was trying to walk away.

Truth be told, Door couldn’t even figure out why this was so important. Just a day ago, she was looking forward to getting rid of Geist and going back to Nuvema. After all, he was just someone who, through a series of unfortunate events, became the reason why Door was stuck traveling with a fake pokémon and a Companion. But ever since that morning—ever since he snapped at her—she felt as if she had to make it up somehow, as if she had to prove that she wasn’t as bad as he must have thought she was. Perhaps it was just pride; Door _did_ feel she had a reputation to maintain. Or maybe it was a curiosity born from this stranger—this level-headed, posh, clearly-a-respectable-aide stranger—that made her want to follow him. Or maybe it was just his own charisma. Whatever it was, Door needed to keep him in sight. She needed to finish this mission.

“Hey!” she shouted.

He finally stopped. Turning halfway towards her, he raised his eyebrows at her once more. “You know … Dr. Fennel’s laboratory is just a few blocks from here.”

Trotting up to him, Door gasped a few times to catch her breath. “O-oh?”

Geist nodded. “That’s right. Just down this street. I highly doubt that I’ll run into any interference. You don’t have to accompany me.”

She shook her head. “Nope. Gotta.”

“Very well, then.”

Geist continued down the road, but this time, it was at a slower pace, as if he was deliberately lingering to let Door keep up. Shaking her head for a second time, Door fell into step beside him. It was another block before either of them spoke.

“Are you still pissed at me?” Door asked.

“Why would I be … ah, ‘pissed’?”

With one hand glued to her oshawott, Door lowered herself to pick up Scout. The patrat didn’t resist; in fact, he didn’t seem to notice at all. With a few quick steps, Door caught up with Geist and held up her pokémon.

“Y’know. About the whole ‘tried to make my patrat fight so it can be injured’ thing,” she said.

“Did you learn from that experience?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I hope you did. That’s all,” Geist said.

A flicker of anger rushed through Door, but she bit her tongue—physically bit it to avoid speaking thoughtlessly. As she took a deep breath through her nose, Door did her best to suppress how insulted she felt, and by some miracle, she managed to find her words once more.

“Y-yeah. I did. Don’t worry,” she said.

“In that case,” Geist continued, “I’m curious.”

Door looked up to find Geist staring at her again. This time, his eyes were narrow, and his head was angled slightly. It was an expression of both curiosity and condescension, and for that, Door bit her tongue again.

“W-what?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“You never answered my question,” Geist said. “You seem very keen on making sure I don’t think badly of you. Why? A few minutes from now, we’ll be parting ways.”

Door frowned and looked away, at the ground. “It’s … it’s nothing.”

“Please. I’d like to know.”

Door shifted Scout from one arm to another, just enough to free one of her hands. With this hand, she played with her bangs. “No, I mean it. I don’t know why. I guess I just think you’re cool. I mean, you’re an aide—”

“And you’re not?”

She snorted. “I’m the aide’s aide. I just do the mindless tasks Professor Ironwood or her assistant don’t have time for, like running errands and stuff like that.”

Geist grinned. “That’s pretty important work.”

At that, Door sighed. “If you’re trying to make fun of me, I’d hate to tell you this, but it’s not going to work on someone who agrees that her job sucks.”

Without a word at first, Geist reached for Scout. Door let Geist scoop the patrat out of her grasp, and she watched him nestle Scout in the crook of his arm and pet the meerkat with his other hand. It was odd to see Geist treat the creature like a real pokémon, and much to Door’s surprise, Scout responded like one, with his eyes closing slightly as his paws stretched and batted at the air above Geist’s hand.

Then Geist turned away from her, blocking the patrat from view.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to make fun of you,” he said. “I’m saying, quite simply, that your job is just as important as any other in the laboratory. Even doing the most menial of tasks allows the rest of the team to function. For example, how well do you think Professor Ironwood would work if she didn’t have her morning coffee?”

Door guffawed in response, but Geist raised his eyebrows at her.

“I’m serious,” he said lightly. “I don’t know about Professor Ironwood, but Dr. Fennel is positively scatterbrained in the morning without at least one cup in her.”

“Really?” Door asked with a snort.

“Oh yes.” He grinned knowingly at her. “Don’t tell her I said that, of course, but you should see her after she stays up all night.”

“Wow. Okay, I’m going to take your word for it.” Then, letting her smirk fade, she said, “But you get why I’m a little envious, right?”

Geist pursed his lips and continued down the street. “Not really, no.”

Wrapping her hand back around Jack’s middle, Door jogged forward to catch up with him. Once she did, she sighed heavily and replied, “I want to be a researcher someday. A real one. Someone who goes to different regions and studies real pokémon.”

“The process to become a researcher like that tends to take years.”

“I know. But I just don’t feel like I’ll get anywhere if all I’m doing is making coffee and doing little things.”

Geist smirked. “You underestimate the value of the little things.”

Door tipped her cheek against Jack to hold him steady as she threw her free hand in the air. Her otter squeaked in protest, seemingly indifferent to his owner’s exasperation. 

“C’mon, Geist,” Door said. “Don’t drag me into some kind of circular argument. All I’m saying is I want some time with pokémon, you know? Real ones, not fake ones. I want to see what they’re like.”

“Good thing you’re keeping Jack, then,” he said.

At once, Door paused. After a moment, she twisted her head awkwardly to look at the oshawott, to which he responded by butting his nose against the bridge of hers. Wincing, she frowned at Geist.

“Whoa. Wait,” she said. “You were serious about that?”

“Of course. As Professor Ironwood said, Jack is attached to you. It wouldn’t be good to separate a young pokémon from a trainer he’s already bonded with.”

As if to punctuate this, Jack barked and nuzzled his trainer’s cheek. Door petted him carefully, still keeping her eyes on his tiny frame as best as she could. This was her pokémon. Hers. And it was real. The weight of that information had not fully sunken in by that time, but it was starting to. Hers. Her pokémon. Her real pokémon. She turned those words over and over again in her head as she walked forward again.

“Hey,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “You’ll be spending a lot of time with Jack and Scout. I hope you’ll get to know them both very well.”

Carefully, he set Scout on Door’s other shoulder, then gently took her hand and rested it on the back of the patrat. Scout seemed to mimic Jack, rubbing against Door’s other cheek. She shuddered and swallowed but said nothing as she stared into Geist’s grin. Yet no matter how much she resisted feeling any level of horror, the thought crept back into her head. This wasn’t a real pokémon, yet it felt so much like one.

Geist did not stride forward, as Door had expected, but instead stepped to the side. Looking up, Door realized why. They had stopped in front of a set of wrought-iron gates, behind which sat a four-story, red-brick building looming over a small garden. The building looked nearly unremarkable to Door, had it not been for the courtyard. She had even mistaken it for an ordinary apartment high-rise until that moment, but now, as Geist approached the call box set in the iron fence, Door could see a host of tiny, green heads poking out of the flowers in the garden beyond the gates. Pokémon. Lots of them. Mostly grass-types like petilil and sewaddle, but there were others too, such as venipede and purrloin. Door stared through the bars at the plethora of pokémon, watching them run through the flowers or splash in the concrete pool that took up the center of the courtyard. At first, she thought these might be real, but with a shake of her head, she reminded herself that none of these pokémon existed anymore in Unova. They were fake. They had to be.

“Dr. Fennel?” Geist said. Door looked back to see him stooping down, placing his face as close to the intercom as possible. “Sorry it took me so long. I’m here with the escort from Professor Ironwood.”

The speaker crackled, and an older, female voice floated from it. “Ah! Geist! I was beginning to worry you were attacked again! Please, come in!”

As soon as the intercom fell silent, the gates whirred and creaked open slowly, and Geist motioned for Door to follow him, which she did without question. Her eyes remained on the pokémon, even as the gates closed shut with a loud clang behind her. She squinted, staring first at the petilil darting around the flower beds and then at the pidove flitting into the fountain.

Eventually, she shifted her attention back to Geist. Something wasn’t right about this place or those pokémon, but she just couldn’t put her finger on what.

“Geist?” she said.

“Yes, Door?”

“You never told me what Dr. Fennel studied.”

“Ah.”

Geist stopped at the door, whirling around as he placed one hand on it. The other gestured dramatically in the air. All of this was in preparation for a perfect recitation, as if he had been waiting for Door to ask for quite some time.

“Dr. Amanita Fennel, younger sister of retired poké-oneirologist Dr. Plutea Fennel,” he said. “The current Dr. Fennel is best known as both the regional administrator for the pokémon storage system and one of the most talented minds in the field of pokémon-related technology, but she has also made a name for herself in select circles for continuing her sister’s work. In short, among other things, my employer is engaged in the scientific study of pokémon dreams.”

Door put her hands on her hips. “Must be a tough field. Robots don’t dream.”

“I was told they dream of electric sheep.”

“What?”

Geist snickered and winked. “A joke. In all seriousness, the Doctors Fennel have always had plenty of subjects.”

Door raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening slowly. “Really? She’s got real pokémon?”

“Of course.”

Geist opened his eyes fully and flicked them to the garden. With only a nod, he said everything he needed to say, but it took a second for his message to sink into Door’s mind. When it did, she gradually looked over her shoulder.

Right at the frolicking pokémon.

“No way,” she breathed.

Geist opened the door and replied, “Way. Why do you think we had a spare set of starters to give to Professor Ironwood?”

Door’s heart leapt. _Spare_ set of starters. She could feel her heart pounding, her blood rushing to her head and fingers as she turned towards the open lab. There had to be more inside. There had to be a plethora of pokémon she had never seen in the flesh, right beyond that door. So with an excited smile, she looked up at Geist.

“Are there…?” Her voice trailed off. Suddenly, she couldn’t find the words to form her question.

But somehow, Geist knew. He stood aside and swept his arm towards the doorway. “See for yourself.”

Door didn’t need to be told twice. Without a second thought, without another word to Geist, she rushed past him, to the inside of the laboratory.

She took only two steps into the brightly lit interior before a purple blur shot at her. Instinctively, she yelped and stumbled backwards, flinging her arm out.

“Scout!” she shouted.

The patrat leapt off her shoulder and rammed into the purple blur, and as they tumbled to the ground, Door realized the blur was another purrloin. She could see it—hissing and digging its claws into the floor as Scout lifted himself off its back. Door swallowed hard and stared at it, watching it bare its teeth at her patrat, and the sight of its expression made Door freeze. If the pokémon outside of the laboratory were real, then this one had to be too. And as Door’s mind flitted back to Blair’s tepig, she realized one important thing: she had to be careful this time around. Hold back. Avoid hurting her target.

“Okay, Scout,” she said. “Tackle!”

Scout leapt the moment Door said that word. He threw his body at the cat, rushing it just as it lashed out with its front paws. Although the purrloin’s claws raked Scout’s shoulder, the purrloin’s Scratch didn’t stop the patrat from slamming into the cat’s stomach, and with that, it tumbled head-over-tail into a metal cabinet nearby. Scout shuffled to a stop and snorted with triumph until a green blur smashed into him and pinned him to the ground.

Suddenly, Door’s breath caught in her throat, and she could feel her heart thunder against her ribs. There, standing on top of her patrat, just a few feet away from her, was a snivy. A snivy that glared down at its prey, twitching every so often to counter Scout’s struggling. A snivy whose eyes were wet and glistened in a way that seemed too lifelike to be glass. A snivy that Door knew had to be real.

“H-ho man.” She breathed in. “Okay. You can do this. Scout! Break out and tackle!”

The patrat rolled, pushing the snivy off of him, but the reptile mimicked his movements and shoved back. For a few seconds, the two tumbled in opposite directions until they stood, claws out and low growls rumbling from their throats. Then, the snivy launched itself at Scout, and before Scout could react, the patrat was ripped off his feet and sent flying backwards into a desk on the opposite side of the room. The desk shook the moment he struck its edge, and as he fell to the tiled floor, tools and a handful of screws rolled off its surface and rained down on him. He chattered as his paws grabbed at his tiny head, his orders completely forgotten.

“Don’t let it out-muscle you!” she shouted. “Try again! Tackle!”

Grinding his back paws into the floor, Scout shot at the snivy in a mirror of its last assault. In response, the lizard hissed and dodged, sidestepping the patrat just seconds before impact. Scout slammed into the floor before rising again and dashing after its target, but the snivy leapt out of the way and landed a foot from where it started, forcing its opponent to tumble into the legs of a table instead.

Door’s hands tightened into fists at the sight of her pokémon’s second failed attempt. She knew the snivy was too quick for Scout, and because of that, she realized she had to slow it down. But how? As she watched her pokémon dash after the snivy again and again, she saw no option, no opening that the snivy left behind, and once she realized this, Door gritted her teeth and struggled to come up with a solution.

That was when a pair of hands rested on her shoulders. She jumped and half-turned away from the battle just as Geist leaned over her.

“Relax,” he said. “A pokémon is only as good as its trainer—a faux one especially. Watch the battle. Take note of your opponent’s every move.”

Door looked back. Without further orders, Scout continued to execute Tackle after Tackle, only to strike the floor as the snivy danced out of his reach. But then, Door transferred her focus to the snivy, watching it land, shift its feet, and turn to observe Scout. The moment she was looking for was quick, but pause was there. All she needed to figure out now was how to take advantage of this. Door frowned, letting that thought sink in.

“You saw it, right?” Geist asked. “Snivy is keeping its distance. It knows Scout is fake. It can’t wear him down or put itself in range of its attacks, so it’s waiting for Scout to damage _himself_.”

“So what do I do?” Door asked.

“You remember that clever trainers use what they have. Including what’s on the battlefield.”

Geist nodded to the desk. Door followed his gaze to see the scattered tools and parts on the floor, then the ones still on the top of the desk, then the toolbox sitting in the exact center of the mess.

_Oh._

“Scout!” she called. “Rush Snivy from the side!”

The patrat’s ears perked, and his eyes flashed once. Door looked back to the pokémon in time to see Scout dash in an arc towards the snivy. As it watched him, the grass-type hissed again and leapt back to dodge yet another Tackle. It came close to where Door needed it, but it wasn’t close enough.

“Again! But come at its front!” Door ordered.

Scout drove itself towards the snivy, forcing it to dodge backwards one more time. Its back struck the desk, and the toolbox lurched closer to the edge.

“Again!” Door shouted. “From the front!”

Without a second thought, Scout dove at the snivy, and the lizard dove out of the way.

Door wondered if the snivy underwent an epiphany right then and there. She had never handled real pokémon, and as such, she didn’t know how advanced their intellects actually were. Maybe they _did_ comprehend tactics or danger the way humans did. Maybe they didn’t.

Either way, she knew the snivy understood _something_ , as the second Scout plowed into the desk and sent the toolbox crashing onto the floor between him, the lizard’s eyes widened, and it froze with an expression Door was almost certain wasn’t just shock from the loud noise and sudden movement.

“Now!” Door cried.

Bursting from the wreckage of the toolbox, Scout rushed at the snivy. Its eyes snapped to him, but the distraction shook it just enough to keep it rooted to the spot for a second too long. Scout threw all his body weight right into the snivy before it could even flinch.

And then, it exploded in a puff of pink smoke.

For a long while, no one said anything. Door simply stood, stunned, as she locked her eyes on her patrat. The patrat looked back at her and blinked lazily, both eyelids lowering and rising again in a slow glide. And then, Geist finally broke the silence with a heavy sigh and a light pat on Door’s shoulders.

“Almost but not quite, Dr. Fennel,” he said.

With that, he strolled forward, hands folding behind his back and eyes on the open staircase on the other side of the room, and at long last, Door realized they weren’t alone. A short, stocky woman idled halfway up the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other in the pocket of her lab coat. Her blue eyes sparkled behind a pair of oval glasses in a way that reminded Door of Professor Ironwood’s smile, and in response to Geist’s comment, she tipped her head towards the pink, blob-like creature floating beside her. This gave the purrloin—the same battered one that Scout had knocked down a moment ago—enough room to leap onto the woman’s shoulder and nestle itself under the graying, chestnut bob of her hair.

“It was a good try anyway,” she said. She pulled her hand out of her coat pocket and placed it on the purrloin’s back. “One of them seems stable, at least. You’ll be pleased to know your hypothesis about using a psychic gem to boost the tangibility was correct, but I’d like to do an experiment involving a fragment of a mind plate eventually. No doubt the pokémon that come out of _that_ will be even better!”

“I can put out a call to Bebe Larson if you’d like,” Geist replied. “The plates manifest most frequently in the Sinnoh Underground. She would know if anyone had unearthed a mind plate recently.”

The woman smiled. “Armed with good ideas as usual. That’s my assistant.” She beckoned Door forward with her free hand. “But it’ll have to wait. We have guests, Geist! You must be Doreen, Professor Ironwood’s assistant.”

“It’s … it’s Door,” Door stammered with a blink.

“Door it is, assuming you’ll call me Amanita,” she replied. “I’d imagine that Geist has been referring to me as ‘Dr. Fennel’ this and ‘my employer’ that. He has an unfortunate habit of being too formal around company he’s not used to, I’m afraid.”

At that, Geist turned his head and coughed into one of his fists, keeping the other hand behind his back. Door ignored him, stepped forward, and gestured towards the empty space where the snivy had been.

“Um,” she said.

“Don’t worry about the mess,” Amanita responded. “I’ll clean it up later. That was a great battle, by the way! A bit basic, but for a new trainer, it’s clear you have a lot of potential.”

Door swallowed. “ _Um._ ”

“Dr. Fennel, I believe Door is trying to ask for an explanation,” Geist said lightly.

Amanita raised her eyebrows. “Oh! Of course!” She motioned towards the blob, which eased its red eyes open and stared directly at Door. “Door, this pokémon is called a munna. You do know about munna, don’t you?”

Door furrowed her eyebrows. “Sure. Psychic-types. Distant cousins of the drowzee line. They eat dreams.”

“Right,” Amanita replied. “But they also expel—”

“Dream mist. I know.”

Amanita lowered her hand as a surprised smile played across her face. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Door said with an uncomfortable shrug. “Professor Ironwood told me all about munna.”

“Good old Bianca,” Amanita said. “But yes. Dream mist. You do know, then, what dream mist can do, right?”

“It can—” Door stopped, then threw a glance to the space where the snivy had been. “Oh. You’re not telling me that…”

Amanita’s smile grew broader. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

At that, Door couldn’t help but relax. Her shoulders fell, and her posture slouched as she exhaled. “Oh. So it wasn’t real.”

“Oh, it was real.”

Door shot Amanita a look. Her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth scrunched up, and her every muscle dedicated themselves to conveying how deep her confusion was.

“What?” she asked.

Amanita chuckled and reached out to pet her munna. It huffed and rubbed against her, bobbing a little closer to its master. At the same time, Amanita’s other hand shifted to the purrloin’s head, and the cat purred and batted its tail back and forth.

“You see,” Amanita said, “it’s true that dream mist possesses certain hallucinogenic properties, and typically, it creates illusions, not tangible objects. However, I’ve been experimenting with boosting Munna’s telekinetic and somnokinetic abilities to the point where, if she wills it, she can compress the dream mist she exudes and convert it into portals.”

Door took another step forward. “Portals? What … what do you mean by portals?”

At that moment, Geist cleared his throat, and Door looked up to see him sweeping up the area around the desk with a broom and long-handled dustpan. The tools Door had scattered were already sitting neatly beside the toolbox on the desk.

“How much do you know about the Entralink?” Geist asked.

“Not much,” Door admitted. “But then again, there’s not much to know about it. It’s a wasteland, isn’t it? Absolutely no one permitted inside?”

He looked up with a smirk. “And why do you think that is?”

Door considered this. It was common knowledge, sure, but why? She struggled to recall all the things she learned about it—all the lessons in school that had centered around Unovan geography. She remembered her school books, her teachers’ lectures, her entire education, and in her memories, all of the information she could recall about the Entralink could be condensed into a single paragraph. It was a vibrant place once upon a time: a vast forest full of life and pokémon smack in the heart of Unova. And then, when the pokémon disappeared, so did the forest, which left the Entralink little more than a desert. This wasn’t some government cover-up either; the photographs of the Entralink’s shrinking green expanses were used in environmental protests for decades until the pokémon population finally collapsed.

So Door couldn’t help but stare at Geist blankly instead of answering his question. She literally couldn’t tell him why it was off-limits. It just was, even if there was literally nothing there.

Luckily, he seemed to know, so after resting the broom and the dustpan against the desk, he clapped his hands together and said, “Because it’s unstable now that there are no pokémon.”

“Un … unstable? What do you mean?” Door asked.

“Perhaps we should just give you a straight answer here,” Amanita replied. “Even back when real pokémon existed in this region, the Entralink wasn’t fully understood. That’s what my sister’s research set out to uncover: the exact nature of that very spot. Somewhere along the line, she discovered something interesting, and that something was the fact that whoever named the Entralink knew how to pick ‘em.”

“Huh?”

“I mean,” Amanita continued, “that the Entralink is an entry and a link to a different place: the Dream World.”

The ensuing silence was palpable. Door stood, staring up at Amanita blankly, and Amanita smirked back at her. Then, after a minute passed, the researcher sighed and draped her wrists over the banister.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me what the Dream World is?” she asked.

“Oh-kay,” Door said, drawing each syllable out over one long exhale. “What’s the Dream World?”

Amanita slapped the banister. “Glad you asked! The Dream World is exactly what you think it is: the world constructed from pokémon dreams.” Pausing, Amanita pushed herself up, placing one hand on the banister and the other on her hip. “Don’t look at me like that! You’ve already seen a tangible part of this dream world in the form of dream mist. It’s just that the Dream World is something bigger, something that can be shared between pokémon. It is, in other words, another dimension formed from the collective dream energy of every pokémon in existence. While there are different entry points to this other dimension, the biggest weak point in the barrier between reality and the Dream World was once located at the heart of the Entralink. To push through it, all a trainer needed was a sleeping pokémon and a handy little device my sister and I created with the help of dream mist we collected.”

“The C-Gear,” Geist finished. “We would give you one, but it’s unfortunately rather useless at this point. What Dr. Fennel forgot to mention is that without pokémon, there isn’t enough dream energy in Unova to support the bridge between the Dream World and reality. Thus, with the disappearance of the last wild pokémon in the region, the Entralink collapsed. This isn’t to say that there’s nothing but desert there, of course. Although the dreaming pokémon are gone, their dream energy lingered, congealing into what’s known as dream bubbles. Thus, whereas long ago, pokémon could direct dream energy within the Entralink to become things their trainers may desire, the undirected dream _bubbles_ are left to become something far more dangerous.”

“What, monsters?” Door asked.

“No, actually, bombs.”

She gave him a long, steady look. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Geist replied. “Without pokémon to shape them into stable forms, dream bubbles have an unfortunate habit of converting themselves back into energy of the ordinary, non-dream variety in the most violent ways possible. It’s not pleasant, and the government understood that. So the Entralink became off-limits until the last of the dream bubbles clear off.”

“Okay, so I got all that,” Door said, “but what does this have to do with that snivy being real?”

“Well, therein lies the interesting part,” Amanita told her. “You see, the reason why we know the Dream World was a dimension and not merely electrical pulses in a pokémon’s brain is because it was possible to pull things from the Dream World into our own.”

“So … what? Snivy was a dream pokémon?” Door asked.

“Oh yes,” Amanita answered. “From Munna’s dream. You see, Geist and I have been researching ways to use dream mist to create portals to the Dream World anywhere, not just the Entralink. It ties in with a theory we have about the sudden reappearance of real pokémon.”

“Whoa.” Door held up her hands and moved forward a little more. “Whoa, wait. Are you saying there are real pokémon in this region?”

“Why, yes.”

“Not just in your front yard.”

Amanita’s smile returned. “Of course.”

And at that, Door’s eyes widened. “But … where? How?”

“We don’t entirely know,” Geist said. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. But we do know that that munna up there was among the first.”

He nodded to the munna bobbing beside Dr. Fennel. As Door looked at her, she closed her eyes and sang, thrilled to be the center of attention for once. The munna didn’t look particularly out-of-the-ordinary to Door—no distinguishing marks or special color or aura of power or anything else she would have expected from something so powerful it apparently blinked to life out of nowhere. If anything, it looked exactly like the faux munna Door had seen on televised gym battles and tournaments. Then again, there were always other possibilities.

“Are you sure it’s native? Maybe it was abandoned,” Door reasoned. “Or maybe its parents were. There’re munna habitats in Kalos and Hoenn, right?”

“All very good theories,” Amanita answered. “Professor Ironwood taught you well. But no, this one was born here; after all, we found her egg in the Dreamyard. No parents in sight.” She hesitated. “Of course, this isn’t to say that we’re ruling out the idea of a parent munna or musharna somewhere in the Dreamyard, especially given the strange bit of activity that happened after we found the egg.”

“Activity?”

“Sure.” Amanita nodded to Jack, still perched on Door’s shoulder after all this time. “All of the pokémon in this lab, your oshawott included, suddenly appeared there too. Fully formed, no less, not as eggs. This all began happening less than a month ago, and we’ve been working to figure out what we’re dealing with since. So, yes, we think there’s a parent munna or musharna somewhere in the Dreamyard and that the Dreamyard itself has become an alternate entry point to the Dream World in lieu of the Entralink, but we haven’t been able to find the pokémon _or_ a portal yet. In the meantime, we’re testing the stability of pokémon pulled from there, which is why Professor Ironwood agreed to give away three Dreamyard-born starters to trainers. It’s to test whether or not they’re stable, as you might’ve guessed with the fate of the snivy you’ve battled just a moment ago.” Amanita dropped her hand. “Unfortunately, our munna’s not quite as strong as whatever’s in the Dreamyard. Whatever she pulls out of the Dream World is sent back there if they take too much damage in reality. Bit of a pesky problem, but it’s not her fault.”

Munna hummed and bowed her head before nuzzling against Amanita again. In response, Amanita petted the psychic gently.

Meanwhile, Door shifted her head to look at Jack, who had been quiet since the moment they had walked in. It was odd to Door that he would be, considering he seemed so friendly and chattery every other time she looked at him, but now, perhaps after seeing the snivy get banished back to the Dream World—or whatever really happened—he seemed distant. Silent. Even as Door reached up to stroke the side of his head, he didn’t respond.

And then, she realized why. He had watched something just like him vanish in a puff of smoke, and she didn’t even think twice about how he felt on the matter. Biting her lip, Door thought about the weight of what she had just learned and what she had just done. Everything came to her so quickly that she had forgotten completely about Jack and how he had to have felt.

To be fair, all the things Amanita and Geist had just told her was too much, so it was hard _not_ to be distracted. There were real pokémon. An entire alternate dimension. Some kind of weird magic energy that sprouted from pokémon dreams. And all of this came to her on what was just the second day of her journey—a journey she didn’t want to take in the first place. Yet despite the fact that this might have been her reason for not noticing Jack’s silence, it still didn’t excuse what she had done.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “The snivy. Is it … is it okay?”

The scientist stopped petting her munna and smiled. “Oh yes. Of course it is. Like I said, the Dream World is an entire alternate dimension. It’s possible to pull things from it, and it’s possible to send things back. Your patrat did a number on that snivy, but I’m sure it’s recovering back in the Dream World where it belongs.” Amanita began petting Munna again. “It’s a nice place actually. The Dream World, I mean. I haven’t seen it since the Entralink collapsed, of course, but how could I forget what that kind of place looked like?”

At that, finally, Jack stirred under Door’s touch. He chattered softly, nuzzling against Door’s chin. Door breathed a sigh of relief but then thought about Jack—about figuring out a way to apologize to him properly.

And then, it hit her.

“The Dreamyard,” she said. “It’s close to here, right?”

“That’s right,” Amanita replied.

“Could I … do you think I could bring Jack to see it?”

“Any particular reason why?”

Door leaned her head into her otter’s shoulder. “I just think it’d be nice to let him see where he came from.”

Amanita moved her hand, using it to prop her chin up as she rested her elbow on the banister. “Well, I don’t suppose I could deny that. Of course you can. Under one condition.”

“Condition?”

“Yes. Just one condition.” Amanita inclined her head towards her assistant. “Geist, you’ll have to take her to Striaton Gym. She’ll need to earn her way into the Dreamyard.”

Door recoiled. “I … what? You want me to earn a badge, just to enter the Dreamyard?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Amanita said. “No one can enter the Dreamyard unless they’ve gotten express permission from the local gym leaders, and the local gym leaders only hand out permission to trainers who’ve proven themselves capable of handling pokémon in a humane manner. And anyone who’s working for me, of course.”

“Seriously?”

Amanita shrugged. “Leader’s rules. And to be fair, it’s also always been the gym leader’s duty to protect the Dreamyard since the laboratory was abandoned. It’s dangerous there too, you know. Granted, that’s more because there’s a collapsing, abandoned building in there than because of all the reasons why you can’t get to the Entralink anymore.”

“Oh.” Door shifted on her feet. “That … actually makes sense.”

“‘Course it does. Now, Geist, if you don’t mind, why don’t you come upstairs and help me make the arrangements? I’ll need to speak with you privately about what happened in Nuvema anyway.”

“Yes, of course.” As soon as he said those words, Geist stepped forward until his feet mounted the stairs. Then, with one last glance to Door, he told her, “This should only take a moment. Please wait right there.”

With that, Amanita, Geist, and the two pokémon disappeared through the entrance to the second floor, but Door stood back a short distance from the staircase. Her hand rested on Jack, but her eyes fell on Scout, who ambled up to stand at her feet. After some time, she exhaled.

“Well, guys,” she said, “you up for a gym match?”

Scout inclined his head in quiet incomprehension, but Jack whined on her shoulder and pushed his face into her neck. At those responses, Door frowned and glanced back towards the laboratory’s front door.

“Me too,” she muttered.


	8. Striaton Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door finally takes on a gym like a normal, respectable trainer.

Door was a little miffed. To be fair, she felt a little miffed because she _also_ felt underdressed and highly confused, but this was secondary to the fact that she was mostly miffed, highly confused, and underdressed all at once because Geist had led her to a fine dining restaurant instead of a pokémon gym. At three in the afternoon, no less.

Not that she particularly minded getting free food. Sure, she would have preferred something a little less pretentious than anything off a menu that happened to be largely in French, but the point was she didn’t have to pay for it. It was just that she couldn’t figure out why Geist chose to bring her here.

She squinted at the menu, struggling to make sense of not only the French names but also the International Common descriptions for each dish (what the hell _was_ foie gras?), and when she gave up on that, she sighed heavily, set it aside, and glared at her partner. He sat across a white-covered table from her, one hand on his water glass and the other resting nonchalantly on his closed menu. His eyes stared across the room, and as Door followed his gaze—passing over a massive, elegant dining area stocked full of empty tables, a cleanly uniformed waitstaff of Companions, and the occasional well-dressed patron—she came to a stage on the far end. Or, it might have been a stage. Door wasn’t entirely positive what it was, truth be told. It simply looked like a wide space extending into the dining area but blocked off by a thick, red curtain. _Was_ it a stage? Perhaps a ballroom floor for functions? A place for a live band at nights? Did upscale French restaurants have bands? Door reached for her glass to take a long, nervous drink.

“You’re wondering why we’re here,” Geist said without taking his eyes off the curtain.

Door sputtered into her glass and came up gasping. “Th-that thought crossed my mind.”

Turning his head to her, he lifted his hand off his drink and signaled for a waiter. As if by magic, a young man with wild, red hair swept across the room, pulling a pad and pencil out of the pocket of his apron. This man, Door noticed, was not a Companion. The slightly apathetic expression on his face gave him away; actual service Companions were eternally perky, regardless of how many plates of foie gras with pickled wepear berries they had to serve.

“Have we decided?” he asked, his voice low and smoky.

“We have indeed,” Geist replied. He held up his menu, offering it to the waiter. “One bottle of fresh water each, please. My friend would like the chef’s special.”

“Chef’s special?” the waiter asked, hovering his pencil over the pad.

“We called ahead,” Geist explained.

The waiter grinned and pocketed both the pad and his writing utensil. “Of course. Just one moment.”

He walked quickly away from the table. Door followed him with her gaze until he disappeared through a set of double-doors to the side of the dining room—doors that, judging from the glimpse of the room beyond it, led to the kitchen. As soon as he was gone, Door turned back to Geist.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” She paused, then shook her head. “No pun intended. What’s going on?”

Geist smiled innocently, laced his fingers together, and placed his hands on the table. “Door, I’m surprised. Even considering your lack of interest in pokémon training, I would have thought someone who worked for our region’s foremost pokémon professor would have recognized what this place is by now.”

“We’re in a French restaurant.”

“Beyond that.”

“We’re in a _very pretentious_ French restaurant.”

Geist guffawed but covered his mouth with the back of a hand. “All right. I can’t disagree there. This isn’t my favorite place to eat either. Nor is it Dr. Fennel’s, for that matter. I think the two of us have only ever come here on the very rare occasion that a graduate from the Trainers’ School seemed particularly interesting.”

Door put an elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her hand. “What, do you throw a wild party here, or is this the pokémon gym?”

“As a matter of fact, the latter.” Geist picked up his glass and examined the water inside. “Sometimes the former too. It depends on whether or not Bebe Larson is also in town.”

In response, Door contracted her lips into a pucker as she stared at Geist for a second. Then, she finally furrowed her eyebrows and said, “I was kidding, but okay.”

Geist placed his glass back down and tilted his head at Door. “My apologies. Allow me to go into a bit more detail. Door, this is—”

“Le Jardin Potager,” another voice chimed in, “the foremost establishment of French cuisine in all of Unova … and, as your friend says, the Striaton Gym.”

Door jumped in her seat and twisted around to see a blue-haired man in a sharp, black suit standing behind her. She stopped, taking in his sparkling smile and the depth of his ocean-blue eyes. Everything about him seemed smooth—slicked back, sprayed with cologne, pressed, and polished. He bowed and extended a pale hand to her, and she swallowed.

“Welcome,” he said. “You must be Doreen Hornbeam. Dr. Fennel has reserved a bit of our time, it seems, and I do apologize that I failed to meet you at the door. My name is Sumac. I am part owner and full general manager of Le Jardin Potager, as well as one of its three possible gym leaders. The water specialist, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Door said. “I gotcha. Striaton Gym’s the one that does the whole three gym leader thing, right?”

“A tradition passed down to us by our respective fathers, yes. Speaking of which…” Sumac drew back and motioned to the red-haired waiter, who had seemingly materialized out of nowhere with a tray balanced on his shoulder. “Allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Savory, the fire specialist.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said with a bow. His hand moved fluidly from the tray to the table, depositing a pair of water bottles at its center. “I look forward to your battle.” As he drew himself back up, he slid the tray into his hands at his front and cast a glance to his cousin. “Sage will be meeting us behind the curtain. We’re ready when you are, Sumac.”

“Ah, such a shame I don’t have more time for theatrics,” Sumac responded with a grin. “Very well. I’ll escort Miss Hornbeam to the stage in a moment. Go ahead and take your place.”

“Of course.” With another sweeping bow, Savory lifted his eyes to Door and winked. “Good luck, Miss Hornbeam.”

Then, he turned and walked quickly towards the curtain. Reaching up to play with the bottle of water, Door shifted in her seat.

“It’s … I prefer Door,” she said. “Just … just Door, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah! Of course. My apologies again, Door,” Sumac responded. He rested his hand against his chest as if to punctuate this thought, and Door couldn’t help but find the gesture to be a little overdramatic. “Tell me, though. Do you know why there are three leaders at this gym?”

Door shrugged. “Sure. Because back in the day, whoever had a type advantage against a trainer’s starter would be the one to battle. It was supposed to make things even more challenging for beginners.”

“A fantastic way to set the stage for the rest of the Unova League, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.

She couldn’t help but grin—genuinely this time, but also with a hint of confidence. “I’ll say. Please tell me that’s exactly what you’re doing now.”

“That is, in fact, exactly what we’re doing now,” Sumac answered with a flashy grin of his own. “So tell me, Door. If I sent a grass-type out to battle you, what type would be best to meet it?”

“Easy.” Door leaned back in her chair, slinging an arm over its back. “Fire. Like the ones Savory trains.”

“And if I sent a fire-type?”

“Water. Like your pokémon.”

“And a water-type?”

“Grass. Which I’m guessing your other cousin trains.”

“You would be correct,” Sumac replied. He placed a hand on the table and spread his manicured fingers across the crisp, white cloth. “So, Door. What type is your starter, then?”

Door stood up, shoving one hand in her pocket to feel Jack’s poké ball. As she did, her smirk grew. “Water. My starter’s an oshawott.”

Sumac clapped his hands together and smiled. “Then allow me to introduce you to my other cousin.” He threw an arm towards the curtain with a wide, sweeping gesture. “The challenger, Door Hornbeam of Nuvema City, wishes to battle Sage, gym leader of Striaton Gym!” His voice lowered back to its normal volume as he threw a look at Door over his shoulder. “And, if I may add, one hell of a head cook. Win, and perhaps dinner will be on her.”

Before them, the curtains parted dramatically, swinging back to reveal a wide-open hardwood floor painted with the lines of a battlefield. A young woman with a bright, green ponytail stood in its center, her hands pressed against the waist of her chef’s jacket. Beside her stood Savory, who gestured to the woman.

“Presenting the head chef of Le Jardin Potager and the grass-type gym leader of Striaton City, Sage Escoffier!” he announced.

Sage smirked and locked her green eyes on Door. “Ah, challenger! Welcome to Striaton Gym! I look forward to sampling the flavor of your techniques! Please approach the battlefield!”

Door took a deep breath and strode forward. This was it. Her very first gym battle. She had dreamed of this moment since she was a girl and hoped that one day, she would do it with real pokémon. But as she snaked her hand back into her pocket, she felt Jack’s poké ball. Was he ready? Gym battles were more intense than ordinary fights against wild pokémon or other trainers, and Jack hadn’t done much battling since he had joined Door’s team. Not only that, but also, Door thought back to Jack’s battle against N—how afraid he seemed. How easily he was beaten aside. And then there was the snivy in Amanita’s lab, the one that vanished in a puff of pink smoke after only a handful of attacks. With another deep breath, Door dug a little deeper into her pocket and felt Scout’s ball. No, Jack wasn’t ready. But Scout _was_. Or so she hoped.

She took her place on one end of the battlefield as Sage walked to the other. Not once did the gym leader take her eyes off her challenger, and Door wondered how frequently the chef left the kitchen for a good battle. Clearly, given how confident Sage seemed to be, it must have been often. Door swallowed for a second time and silently prayed that she was ready.

“So,” Sage said. “How long have you been a trainer?”

“I guess two days,” Door replied.

Sage chuckled. “You move quickly. All right! I’m honored to be your first gym experience, then! Allow me to tell you how this is going to go. It’s a two-on-two match. Only the challenger may switch pokémon. No time limit, and fauxkémon are allowed. Out-of-bounds counts as a knock-out. Got it?”

With that, Door pulled Scout’s poké ball from her pocket. Pressing the button, she felt it expand in her hand until it clicked. The movement felt fluid, natural—more so than any other time Door held it. And because of that, she smirked.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Standard rules, then. Don’t hold back just because I’m new. I’ve been studying under Professor Ironwood for years.”

“Spirited,” Sage commented. She tilted her head and reached into her own pocket. “I like that. All right, then! I won’t hold back, and neither should you! Brioche, go!”

Sage tossed her poké ball to the center of the field, and Door followed suit. With a pair of flashes, two pokémon materialized on the battlefield: Scout and a puppy that looked exactly like Toto in every way. Door stiffened, remembering Blair for a second. She balled her hands into fists and hoped, at least, that this battle would end far, far differently.

“Whenever you’re ready, challenger,” Sage said. “I’ll let you have the first move.”

“Hold on! Door!”

She broke her gaze away from the battle to glance towards the tables. Geist rose to his feet, his eyes locked on Scout.

“I forgot to mention!” he called. “You’ve been using Scout for a lot of battles lately! That means he’s probably learned new moves by now. If Professor Ironwood taught you anything about the pokémon common to this region, think back on everything you know about patrat!”

Sage chuckled, drawing her challenger’s attention back to the battle. “Your friend’s observant.”

“He’s also got a point,” Door replied. Then, throwing her hand forward, she commanded, “Scout! Try Sand Attack!”

Without even questioning the order, the patrat spun, swiping his paw down into the floor. The motion was clear to Door: Geist was right. Scout _did_ know more moves. And that realization lifted her spirits, even though Scout’s paw did nothing more than grind against the floor. She didn’t entirely expect Scout to turn the floorboards into the dirt and sand needed for the technique she had ordered; in fact, she was convinced that nothing would happen at all. But now that she could see she hadn’t entirely wasted her turn, a new plan was quickly forming in her mind.

“Not a strong start,” Sage quipped. “Brioche! Let’s show her how to _really_ prepare for a battle! Work Up!”

The puppy dropped itself low to the floor and emitted a steady growl. Red light swirled around its body as it visibly tensed, and its growl grew louder and louder. Then, at the last second, Brioche snapped back to its full height, threw its head back, and howled, and the light around it burst into a brilliant, red aura. To Door, the creature looked like it was on fire, and with that thought in mind, she ground her teeth together and took a step back. She knew what Work Up did. She had even seen pokémon in televised tournaments use it now and then. But now, faced with a pokémon that was using it to prepare for a strike against her, she had to shake off her nervousness before even thinking about fighting back.

And then, she poured all her hope into a guess.

“Scout, you’ve got to take that lillipup out quickly!” she shouted. “Use Crunch!”

She didn’t expect anything to happen. She really didn’t. But then, to her shock, Scout opened his mouth wide, and a white light burst from his fangs. Before anyone could move, he barreled right for the lillipup, closing the short distance between them until he smashed his teeth into its shoulder. The puppy emitted a mechanical squeal as Scout’s jaws crunched straight through its fake fur and into its metal exoskeleton, and Brioche’s front legs flailed desperately against Scout’s tiny body. Then, with strength Door didn’t even know he had, Scout lashed once and released, sending the lillipup flying into the wall behind Sage. It slammed hard into it, leaving behind a dent as it crashed to the floor. When it struck the ground, it struggled back to its feet and blinked a few times, but before it could move back into the ring, Savory threw an arm into the air.

“Stop!” Savory announced. “Brioche is out-of-bounds! Match goes to the challenger’s patrat!”

Sage chuckled again and drew Brioche’s poké ball into the open. The puppy vanished with a flash of red light, and its trainer paused, grinning at her challenger.

“My, my,” she said. “You’re a lot stronger than I would have thought for someone who’s only been a trainer for two days.”

Door thought back to N and Blair and Amanita’s snivy again, and she shrugged at Sage’s comment. “It’s been a really long two days.”

“So I see.” Sage pocketed Brioche’s ball and drew out a second one. “Well, Mademoiselle Hornbeam, I made the mistake of underestimating you once, but I’m not doing it again! Pomme, go!”

She tossed the next ball into the ring. Door steeled herself, taking another deep breath as she waited. This was it. The grass-type. The _gym-trained_ grass-type, no less. She couldn’t possibly risk sending out Jack at this point; given how little he had battled compared to Scout, Door knew he wouldn’t be able to stand his ground. So silently, she prayed that Scout’s victory against Sage’s lillipup wasn’t just a fluke.

The light streaming from Sage’s next poké ball burst and faded away, and Door found herself staring at a green monkey. As the pansage glared at Scout with large, dark eyes, a confident smirk played across its cream-colored muzzle, and it lifted one mitten-shaped hand to send a challenging gesture towards Scout.

And in that moment, Door decided that this match had to end quickly too.

“Okay, Scout!” she shouted. “Open up with Crunch again!”

Scout launched forward, white light swirling around his buck teeth once more. Yet despite the threat Scout posed and the short distance between them, the pansage didn’t move, not even to let its smirk fade. It was only at the last second that the pokémon shifted, holding up its left arm to block Scout’s attack, and when the rodent’s teeth clamped down on the monkey’s arm, it didn’t even squeal. It simply stood there, legs braced against the floor, as it held Scout at bay using just one arm.

“Pomme, throw it use and Work Up!” Sage commanded.

In what looked like a mockery of Scout’s move against its teammate, Pomme swung its arm down, threw the patrat off his feet, and tossed him across the field. Door tensed as she watched Scout tumble, her breath catching in her throat until he came to a stop just an inch from the very edge of the field. Then, she exhaled slowly and watched as, across the way, the pansage engulfed itself in a familiar red aura. Its eyes glinted, and its smirk grew more vicious as the monkey let out a low growl of its own. Pomme was certainly more of a challenge than Brioche, and because of that, Door hesitated, thinking hard about how to tackle this opponent without getting Scout knocked out.

Tackle this opponent.

_Tackle._

Door’s eyes fell on the pansage’s arm. Even through the red light surrounding it, she could see the faint sparking emitting from the break in its “flesh.” That alone gave her an idea.

“Scout!” she said. “Tackle! Approach it from the right!”

“Pomme, don’t let it get close!” Sage countered. “Vine Whip!”

The two pokémon moved almost simultaneously. Scout bounded forward on all fours, rushing towards Pomme in an arc. At the same time, Pomme twirled to swing its tail in an arc around itself. A green light flashed from the tip of the pansage’s tail, and the leaves adorning it twisted and lashed outward into a lithe, green vine. Grabbing it with one hand, Pomme smashed its new whip into the floor just inches from Scout’s face, splintering the boards instantly. Scout leapt over the whip and continued bounding toward Pomme, but the pansage swung its tail again to lash it at the rodent. Despite how close he was, Scout was still far too quick for the monkey, and once more, the tail slammed into the floorboards.

Grinning, Door cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Keep it up, Scout! When you’re close enough, Crunch Pomme’s weak point!”

Scout leapt over Pomme’s last Vine Whip and shot directly at the monkey’s broken arm. His glowing teeth clamped down on it, and he jerked his head, tearing it clean out of its socket with a loud snap. Sparks flew from the pansage’s damaged side as it reeled back and screamed. And then, it swung around, slamming its tail into Scout’s side. Scout was thrown off his feet, and seemingly on instinct, he released Pomme’s broken arm just before he crashed back down onto the battlefield. The arm clattered away, coming to a rest just outside of the ring, while Scout struggled to stand. His side had been torn open by Pomme’s Vine Whip, just enough to expose his slick exoskeleton, and Door hesitated at the sight of it.

“Pomme, let’s return the favor!” Sage said with a grin. “Vine Whip the patrat’s weak point!”

Door shook off her shock and threw a hand forward. “Counter with Crunch!”

With its good hand, Pomme snatched its tail and lashed out, swinging it once again at Scout. This time, Scout was ready. He opened his mouth and crouched down, and as the vine slammed into his face, he twisted and clamped onto it with his glowing fangs. At the sight of this, Door grinned and balled her hands into fists. She could feel her confidence pouring back into her.

“All right, Scout!” she said. “Toss it!”

Scout spun, jerking Pomme with him until the monkey was ripped off its feet. Then, with a snap, Scout threw his opponent into the air as hard as he could, and Pomme shot like a bullet to the ceiling and smashed into a light fixture. Its body burst into a brilliant, white light as sparks rained down on the battlefield. Scout chirruped and dashed back to Door’s feet, narrowly missing the rain of electricity … as well as Pomme’s charred and broken body. The pansage slammed hard into the floor, and although its eyes flickered, it otherwise fell still.

“Pomme is unable to battle!” Savory announced. “Match goes to the patrat, and with two victories against the gym leader, the challenger wins!”

Door couldn’t help herself. She shouted once with joy, then swooped down to scoop Scout into her arms. Without thinking, she held him close, ignoring his squirming protests.

“Oh man, that was awesome!” she shouted.

“Indeed it was,” Sage replied. She strode forward, recalling her pokémon as she approached Door. “My goodness, that battle did a number on my pansage.”

At once, Door froze, her smile fading quickly. “Oh. I … sorry. I-I didn’t mean to—”

Sage chuckled and held up a hand calmly. “It’s all right. I’ve had Pomme’s core reinforced specifically because of how intense gym battles can get. The rest of him can be easily replaced.” She pocketed the ball and turned her sheepish grin towards Door. “I can’t tell you how many times Pomme has been overwhelmed like that. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He just wants to do his best for me.” Sage sighed. “I know it sounds barbaric, but it’s a comfort, really. No matter what happens, your best friend will always be okay.”

Door gave her an uncertain look. That _did_ sound barbaric to her. Why would anyone want to let their friends battle in the first place if they were just going to get injured that badly? Back in the days of Hilda King’s first journey, there were regulations and rules and restrictions put in place to prevent real pokémon from getting injured. In Door’s opinion, ever since fake pokémon became the norm, people forgot how to have a proper battle. Sure, the rules and restrictions were never lifted—and they were observed whenever a foreigner brought a real pokémon into a match—but no one cared if battles between fake pokémon got extreme. So now, battles didn’t have the same spirit that they used to. And Door thought that was a shame.

Still, she said nothing as Sage stood before her and shrugged.

“In any case, that was a great battle, young lady,” she said. “What you did with Pomme’s arm was particularly clever, and tossing Brioche out of the ring was a fantastic idea. My only criticism is don’t be afraid to use a variety of techniques. You were relying on Crunch quite a bit throughout your second match. A great trainer knows how to hold back their power and rely on a variety of moves to outwit their opponent.”

Door took a deep breath. She remained silent, even as the temptation to point out the fact that she won nagged at her mind. Instead, she watched as Savory and Sumac joined their cousin on the battlefield. Sumac drew out of his pocket a small, velvet cube the size and shape of a ring box, and cracking it open, he presented its contents to Door. She glanced down and took in the sight of the object: a small piece of gold in the shape of three diamonds in a chain. Each diamond was inlaid with a different jewel—sapphire, ruby, emerald—and as Sumac held it up, it glittered in the remaining light of the dining room.

With a sharp inhale, Door mentally put a name to this object. Of course she knew what it was. She had seen it in so many pictures, and she secretly envied the people who had the opportunity to hold it. So, as she placed Scout on her shoulder and reached for the trinket, her hand began to shake … and continued to shake even after she grasped its warm surface between her fingers.

“Nonetheless,” Sage continued, “you battled well, and in recognition of your victory against the Striaton Gym, we, the gym leaders, present you with the Trio Badge. Congratulations, Door Hornbeam.”

Door swallowed hard. “I … I can’t believe it. I finally…” She looked up and couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Thank you. It was an honor battling you.”

She held out a hand for Sage to shake, and as the woman grasped it and pumped it once, she smiled broadly.

“Now, if I recall correctly, my cousin always offers the challenger a second, bigger reward,” she said. “A meal on the house, perhaps? I’m sure we could—”

“Excuse me! Terribly sorry!”

Door and the three gym leaders turned their heads to Geist, who stood at the edge of the battlefield. In his hand was a communication device. Its screen was still glowing from recent use. Glancing at his face, Door noticed that he was looking at her with not an expression of elation over her victory but instead a solemn glare.

“Door, we need to go. Now that you have the Trio Badge, that should get us into the Dreamyard,” he said.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “I mean … I won. That’s a good thing, right?”

“Oh, it is,” Geist replied, “but I just got a call from Dr. Fennel. Something’s going on over there. It’s covered in a fog of dream smoke.”

“Dream smoke?” Door whispered. She looked back at the gym leaders to find them exchanging glances.

“I can’t go,” Sage said. “Not with my pokémon out of commission.”

“And I’d better stay here to man the restaurant,” Sumac added.

Savory didn’t even need a cue. He was already taking off his apron, and the moment Sumac finished, he tossed it at him. “I’ll go. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, what?” Door said. “I mean … isn’t it important for you to stay at the gym?”

“On the contrary. As gym leaders, it’s our responsibility to lend a hand whenever something unusual is happening in our city, especially if it’s not yet clear whether or not the police should be involved.” Savory walked forward and put his hands on his hips. “Are your pokémon ready for another battle?”

“Sure,” Door said with a blink. “I’ve got one other pokémon, and Scout seems tough enough.”

The patrat punctuated this thought with a slow blink and a rumbling bark, and Savory responded with a smirk and a gentle pat on the rodent’s head.

“All right,” he said. “Then let’s go.”


	9. Dreamyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door and Geist work together for the first and probably last time.

A thick, pink cloud hung over the Dreamyard. Literally, a thick, pink cloud, like a vicious cross between cotton candy and fog. Door hesitated for a moment as she stood outside the gates to the abandoned laboratory, and she did so entirely because she needed a moment to take in the fact that she was staring at a cloud of bubblegum barely confined within the boundaries of a dilapidated, brick wall guarded by a single, willowy tree.

And then, Savory tapped her on the shoulder. “Miss Hornbeam?”

“Apologies, Savory,” Geist said. “Miss Hornbeam is unused to the kinds of anomalies you would find around Striaton. Nuvema City is comparatively quiet, so I’ve heard.”

Door jabbed a thumb towards the cloud and sent Geist an incredulous look. “This happens often?!” she squeaked.

He sent her a sideways glance and replied, “Well. Not here, it doesn’t. Tuesdays at Dr. Fennel’s, however—”

“If the both of you are done,” Savory said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “the longer we spend messing around out here, the longer it’ll take to clean this up.”

“Ah! Of course.” Geist motioned to Savory. “Lead the way, then.”

With a huff, Savory reached into one of his pants pockets and drew out a poké ball. Tossing it into the air, he announced, “Cut!”

The ball cracked open, and a flash of white light shot at the tree. The pokémon Savory had released moved too quickly for Door to watch. One moment, she was staring at the ball, and in the next, the top half of the tree slid off its trunk and crashed onto the ground at their feet. Door jumped, glancing from the tree to Savory, just in time to see a pansear land on his shoulder. Savory stopped, studying the tree with a frown.

“That was a new spindle tree,” he said. “Someone’s been through here recently.”

Spindle tree. That’s right. Door had heard of them but for whatever reason, Nuvema never really grew them. They were thin trees, genetically modified to resemble old berry bushes from the old days, back when Unova was far greener than it was then. Most towns had spindle trees to create more of a challenge, something a little extra that the kids with fake pokémon and equally fake trainer’s licenses could chew on, but others—like the gym leaders of Striaton, Door guessed—used them to guard places. And they were _exceptional_ at that job: thorny, hardy, fire-resistant, and liable to snap a sharp, scraggly branch off on one’s arm. Not at all easy to clear, in other words … unless one had pokémon that knew a very specific move designed to cut straight through their well-guarded but spindly trunks, anyway. 

But even then, that only allowed passage for a good fifteen minutes before the tree grew back, and sure enough, even as Savory, Door, and Geist stared at the tree, a sprout was beginning to form on its severed trunk. Savory shrugged his pansear off his shoulder, and without waiting for another command, the monkey shrieked, flung itself at the trunk, and sheared off the sprout before it could shoot back up into a fully grown tree.

“How can you tell?” Door finally asked.

“Trunk was green,” Savory responded as he helped his pokémon back onto his shoulder. “It didn’t have enough time to turn white again.”

“You can tell in this fog?” Door scoffed.

“I’m guessing that’s why we’re waiting,” Geist said, cutting Savory off before he could acknowledge Door.

Savory didn’t seem to notice Geist’s interruption; he only nodded to his comment. “Taking inventory. Door’s got a patrat that’s already been through a rough battle, and given the fact that she’s faced Sage, I assume her other pokémon is a water-type that she hasn’t used.”

“Right. An oshawott,” Door said.

“I’ve got a pansear and a lillipup that are ready to battle, but I don’t have any healing units,” Savory continued.

“Why not?” Door asked.

“Rushed out the door and forgot.”

“That’s very…”

He leered at her. “Stereotypical for a fire trainer?”

Door held up her hands. “Inconvenient! I was gonna say inconvenient!”

Savory relaxed, but his frown didn’t waver. “Yeah, well, besides, I figured you had at least one. Your Companion _did_ order two bottles of fresh water right before the match, after all.”

“Okay, what does that have to—” Door jolted. Her mind took a second to process what Savory had said, and then, swiveling around to glare at Geist, she snapped, “And now you’re being open about it?!”

“Being open about what?” he asked.

“That you’re a Companion!”

Geist gave her a sheepish smile and held up his hands, and Door leaned a little closer to see what he was showing her. They were subtle, but they were there: the edges of the panels hiding the transmitter pads in his palms. He even tapped a spot on one of his wrists to open them up, and her eyes narrowed as she stared at the round, white screens beneath them.

“What the hell was all that about back in Accumula, then?!” she demanded. “When I asked you the first time if you were a Companion, why did you pretend you weren’t?!”

He frowned. “I do apologize, Door, but I didn’t outright tell you whether or not I was because you had just finished explaining why Companions made you deeply uncomfortable. So instead, I asked you why you thought I was a Companion. That wasn’t technically a denial.”

She had to admit, he had a point. Except she wasn’t about to say that out loud, so instead, she merely continued to glare at him.

It took a few more moments for Savory to ask, “How in God’s name did you not know that was a Companion?”

“If I recall correctly, which I have been designed to do, you didn’t either the first time we met,” Geist replied. “Incidentally, the tree grew back.”

Savory growled and shrugged his pansear off his shoulder. For a second time, the monkey screeched, launched itself at the tree, and sliced it in half. This time, however, the banging of the tree against the ground was accompanied by a whimper from the other side. At that, Savory held up a hand, as if to stop Door and Geist from advancing.

“I was right,” he muttered. “There _is_ someone there. You! Come out with your hands where we can see them! If you have pokémon with you, make them lead!”

And then, the last voice Door had expected to hear squeaked from the other side.

“I-I can’t! My Companion…”

“What— _crap_ ,” Door hissed. She pushed past Savory and launched herself at the hole. “Blair?! Blair! Hold on!”

“Door?!” Blair squeaked.

Before either of her partners could stop her, Door vaulted over the stump of the spindle tree and rounded the corner of the wall. On the other side was Blair, who in turn was just barely holding up Opal. As she approached, Door felt a cold, sick feeling well up in her stomach. Opal wasn’t active, and Door could see why right away. Any Companion would have a difficult time operating with a gaping hole in their stomach, right where their power cells should have been.

“Blair … crap,” Door whispered.

She slowed to a stop, and her eyes flicked to the trainer. Blair stood shakily beneath the weight of her Companion, with one of the android’s arms wrapped around her thin shoulders. Tears streamed down her face as she stared helplessly at Door.

“What happened?” Door asked quietly.

Blair shook her head. “I … I saw the cloud. I-I went in to see what was going on … and then … and then…” She swallowed hard.

Door reached out to grab Opal and help Blair set her on the ground. As soon as the Companion’s weight was off the trainer’s shoulders, Door reached out to pat Blair’s arm awkwardly.

“Hey. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ve got the gym leader with me. We’ll figure out what’s up, okay?” she said. Then, throwing a glance over her shoulder, she shouted, “Yo! Little help here?!”

The fog swirled behind her and parted to let Savory and Geist through. Geist stood back, freezing as soon as he saw Opal’s condition. Savory, meanwhile, took a few more steps forward and knelt beside her.

“Jesus,” he muttered, resting a hand on the edge of the gaping hole in Opal’s chest. “Did you see who did this?”

Blair forced herself to nod. Then, she pointed to the right, deeper into the Dreamyard, and bit her lip. Door narrowed her eyes and rose to her feet, and then, without a word, she turned and dashed in the direction Blair was pointing.

“Door!” Geist shouted. “Wait! You don’t know what’s in there! Savory—”

She didn’t stop. Rather, Door dashed forward, into the pink cloud, even if she could barely see anything in front of her. Tall grass whipped at her legs, and rocks and broken tiles felt like they were reaching up and grabbing her feet. But still she ran, deep into the Dreamyard on the hunt for something—anything—that could have done what it did to Blair.

And then, without warning, a red blur shot at her from the side. She stumbled, reeling back just in time to see the blur pass her and disappear into the pink. A chattering growl rushed around her, one she could recognize immediately: a patrat. Her heart beat furiously as she listened to it, desperately keeping track of where she thought it was. How strong was it? Could the thing use Crunch? Door slipped her hand into her pocket, fumbling for Scout’s poké ball, but even when her fingers closed on it, she hesitated. Scout had just been through an intense battle, one that left him battered and torn. Could he stand another one?

Before she could answer, the chattering stopped right behind her, and her stomach felt like its bottom dropped out. Swallowing hard, she turned, her foot scuffing against the ground.

And the moment she faced the way she had come, a patrat shot at her face, mouth open and screaming. Door flinched, stumbling backwards as her arms flew up to shield herself, but the attack she had been expecting never connected. Instead, she heard a thump and felt a warm object squirm at her feet, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Savory’s pansear pinning the patrat to the ground. Door took another few steps backwards and scanned the pink fog for any sign of Savory or Geist. Her eyes fell on a tall, shadowy figure just to her right, and part of her relaxed … until she heard Geist’s voice coming from her left.

“Door! Get out of the way!”

She jumped, stumbling backwards just in time to see the man in black—the Companion who had helped steal Geist’s snivy—appear out of the pink cloud to reach for her. Another set of arms circled her waist, and before she could protest, she was lifted into the air and carried several feet back in one smooth leap. Then, whoever held her kept going, bounding in a wide circle around the man and the two pokémon until coming to a stop deeper in the Dreamyard. As soon as she was brought back down to the earth, Door twisted in her captor’s grasp to see Geist glaring into the cloud.

“Shh. Starr, that Companion … he’s scanning for us. If he can’t pick up on our voices, it should take him a few more moments to locate us,” he said. Then, lowering himself a little more, he added, “Listen. I know you don’t trust Companions, but right now, you’re going to need me. Companions are designed for situations like these; I can detect them just by their heat and electrical signatures, rather than by visuals.”

“Them?” Door whispered.

Geist nodded. “Starr hasn’t moved. His partner, Belle? She’s on the roof.” He paused to point upwards, at a spot just above where he and Door had started. “Savory’s pansear is pinning Patrat to the ground. I’ve given him the order to keep it busy until you’re ready to battle. Savory himself is protecting Blair with his lillipup behind us.”

Door flashed an incredulous look at Geist. “You _gave_ Savory’s pansear an—”

“Yes. No time to explain that,” he said quickly. “I’m detecting that Belle’s purrloin is right beside her, and that’s not all, either. I think I know what’s causing this flood of dream smoke.”

“A munna?” Door asked.

Geist nodded. “Held down by the purrloin.” He flicked her eyes to her. “Door, Scout isn’t in any condition to battle two pokémon. I could lend you Savory’s pansear or … we can go with an alternative I’m not sure you’ll like.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“Jack.”

“I can’t—” Door hissed.

Geist snapped his hand over her mouth and sucked in a breath through his teeth. By the way he was staring at the fog ahead of him, Door guessed he was scanning the area for Starr again. Then, when he was satisfied, he relaxed, albeit just slightly.

“I thought you wouldn’t like that,” he whispered, “but listen. Jack can keep his distance. He knows Water Gun now. Hold onto him, and I’ll carry you and tell you where to shoot. We can keep Jack safe and fight off Belle and Starr at the same time. Sound like a plan?”

Door slumped her shoulders and stared at Geist for a second. She glanced toward the spot where he said the munna was, and for a second, she thought about her situation. That munna had to be real. This was the Dreamyard, the new cradle for real, flesh-and-blood pokémon. There was no way she could let those two thieves ruin the future of Unova, just like that.

But before she could say anything, Geist gasped, wrapped his arms around her, and jumped. She felt the wind of something pass beneath her, heard the slamming of a hard object into dirt, and watched as Starr’s black-clad back vanished into the fog. Geist landed on what felt like a crumbling walkway, far above where the two had started. Door felt its rotting concrete beneath her toes and was just slightly grateful that Geist refused to set her down.

“Ugh, I’m getting so bored!” Belle shouted from somewhere in the pink. “Hurry up and fight, or are you and your Companion friend too spineless to be interesting?”

“What do you even want?!” Door shouted. Her hand slid into her pocket, shoving aside Scout’s poké ball to grasp Jack’s. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she nodded to Geist.

“What do we even want?!” Belle repeated. “Why, just a little bit of fun … and chaos!”

“Great. A drama queen who can’t even come up with something creative,” Door replied as loudly as she could.

“I heard that!”

“That’s the point!”

Door’s voice masked the sound of Jack’s ball expanding and opening in her hand, but it did nothing to smother the excited barking of the otter as soon as he materialized. Quickly shoving the ball back into her pocket, Door frantically covered Jack’s mouth as Geist shot them both a terrified look. Seconds later, he was leaping into the air, narrowly dodging a punch from Starr. He landed on the ground and dashed forward, still carrying Door in his arms, much to her surprise.

“Patrat straight ahead!” he shouted. “Pansear, get ready!”

With a nod, Door snapped her hand off Jack’s snout and wrapped it around his stomach. “Okay, Jack! Whenever I shout your name, shoot Water Gun, got it?!”

Geist slid to a stop right over the monkey and the meerkat. Savory’s pansear looked up, a determined glint in his eye as he waited. At the same time, in response to her command, Jack gave her a confused trill but nonetheless saluted with a stubby arm.

“Good,” she said. Then, pointing at the rodent at her feet, she continued, “Jack! Now!”

“Pansear, jump!” Geist ordered.

The patrat screamed as Savory’s pansear launched itself off its body and into the fog. As soon as the monkey was clear, Jack inhaled deeply and blasted a jet of water out of his mouth. In the confusion, the patrat had no chance. It squirmed in a frantic attempt to dodge, but before it could get to its feet, the jet of water slammed into its chest. To Door’s surprise, the rodent’s torso caved in under the pressure of Jack’s Water Gun, and before long, Door found herself staring down at a battered, unmoving faux patrat.

“Whoa,” she breathed.

“Strong little guy, isn’t he?” Geist asked. “That’s why we thought Jack would be ready for life outside the laboratory.”

With a proud snort, Jack smirked at Door and thumped his chest with a stubby paw. She stared down at her pokémon and blinked. Were real ones actually that strong? Or did Geist’s orders to Savory’s pansear actually entail something more than “keep that patrat busy"? She had no time to think about this, as in the next instant, Geist was dodging Starr once more, and Door heard Starr’s fist crash into solid concrete. Geist landed on a platform above the sound and bolted forward, keeping his head turned as if he was watching something. Then, he leapt again, shooting to the side as he twisted Door around.

“Incoming! Straight ahead!” he shouted.

In response, Door clutched her pokémon tightly and screamed, “Jack!”

The otter barked, drew in another breath, and shot a second jet of water out of his mouth. This time, the jet cut through the pink and connected to something with a smack, and a purrloin howled somewhere very close by. Once he landed, Geist set Door down and leaned over her, squinting at the fog ahead of them. Then, he pulled her back a few steps and pointed forward.

“Door! There!” he shouted.

With a short nod, she hoisted her oshawott up and aimed his head in the direction Geist was pointing. “Jack!”

Jack complied, shooting one more Water Gun at the unseen purrloin. This time, there was no howl of pain.

“Keep going!” Geist said.

“You heard him, Jack!” Door responded.

She held onto her pokémon tightly as Geist picked her up and swung her around. The stream of water shooting out of Jack drew an arc around them, cutting through the fog until it finally struck something just a few feet from where they were. A piercing screech sounded out of the mists this time, and through the thinning cloud, Door could see the dark form of Belle’s purrloin shoot away from them.

“Hold it!” Door ordered.

Jack cut off his stream, and the Dreamyard fell into silence, save for the distant growls of the cat. The sounds moved around the trio, continuing in a semicircle until it stopped just to their left. Door wrenched herself free from Geist and pointed Jack directly at the spot where the growls stopped.

“Now!”

“Door, no!”

Geist grabbed her and twisted her a little more to the left just as Jack exhaled another stream of water. The blast curved, spraying the ground until it shot up … just in time to catch the purrloin squarely in the face. At once, the cat pinwheeled in the air and slammed into concrete somewhere in the fog, but Geist didn’t stop there. With one more twist, he narrowed his eyes at a point towards the sky and turned Door to face it.

“Aim high!” he said.

“Jack!” Door snapped, her voice straining.

The oshawott pressed himself against his trainer’s chest, inhaled as deeply as he could, and shot out the strongest jet of water he could muster. This time, as it sliced through the air, the fog swirled away from it, peeling back just enough to let Door see Belle standing just a few yards from her. All at once, the thief’s eyes widened, and she reeled back, half-stepping away from the attack.

Except she wasn’t quick enough. The jet struck her in the stomach and knocked her off her feet, sending her flying off the walkway. Geist’s arms circled Door’s waist again, and he leapt into the air, bounced off a crumbling wall, and bounded onto the platform Belle had stood on a moment ago. He set Door down and pushed past her, darting into the thinning fog until he knelt down by the fallen munna. It squeaked and shifted on the wall, crawling a little closer to the Companion as Door watched. The trainer held Jack close, her eyes on the psychic-type as her oshawott squirmed in her arms. As the tapir moved, its round body rocked into and out of Door’s view, and in the brief glimpses she could get of it, she saw the purple-blue bruises blossoming across its back.

“Is it okay?” she asked.

Geist shook his head and held a hand over the pokémon. His palm opened with a click, and the pad set inside it took on a white glow that washed over the munna. The creature squealed and leaned away from the light and into Door’s view, but the longer she watched, the more she saw the bruises shrink and fade.

“One fresh water left,” Geist said as his palm closed. “Be careful.”

“Be careful?” Door asked. “For what? The battle’s—”

“Just beginning, you little twerp!” Belle snapped.

Starr landed with a bang onto the platform, just in front of Geist and the munna, and Belle perched on his shoulders. The Companion’s stoic expression refused to break, but Belle, leaning over her partner’s head, clutched his scalp with one hand and reached for her belt with the other.

“I’ve been going easy on you,” she growled.

Then, she flipped off Starr’s back, landed behind him, and twirled ahead to place herself between him and munna. The stolen snivy’s poké ball appeared in her hand, and she brandished it with a flourish and a vicious smile.

“We’re not going down without a fight,” she said. “You see, we want that little cutie pie to positively spew dream smoke. It’s gonna be necessary for our little plan.”

Door scoffed. “Little plan? What little plan?”

“One neither you nor your precious little Companion there will interfere with,” she replied. “Now, why don’t you two be good little pissants and back away from the munna?”

Geist stood. His back was turned to Door, so she had no idea what his expression might have been, but judging from the way he tightened his fists, she knew he was ready to fight. And, glancing down at the very real pokémon at his feet, at the way it crawled—with effort—until it cowered behind him, she knew she had to side with him. Even if he was a Companion.

So she stepped forward.

Belle’s grin wavered at the corners, and her fingers tightened around the ball in her hand. “Oh, cocky, are we? Don’t make me laugh!”

Just then, the fog thinned, as if a wind was blowing it away, into the interior of the Dreamyard. Starr turned his head slowly and narrowed his eyes at the ground.

“It is coming,” he said.

Belle lowered her arm and turned her grin to the ruined interior of the laboratory. “Finally. I thought I’d have to kick that little pig around more to get that stupid thing to appear.”

“Geist, what is she talking about?” Door whispered.

He held out an arm and watched Belle jump off the wall and into the lab’s interior. The fog swirled, compressing into a ball at the center of the yard as she approached step by step. Yet Starr didn’t move, didn’t bother following her. He merely raised a hand to his temple and let his eyes flash over the field.

“Belle, that is not the musharna,” he said. “Step away from it immediately.”

She didn’t. She stepped forward, walking slowly towards the cloud. It coalesced before her, shaping itself into a thin pillar before dispersing completely. At its center was not, as Starr had said, a musharna. At its center stood the man from Accumula.

Belle froze, and even though her back was turned, Door could see her skin blanching. Starr leapt off the platform and started for his partner, while the silver-haired man glared down at Belle.

“My dear Belle,” he drawled.

His body dissolved into pink smoke and trailed away from her. The smoke split into thirds, and with a pink flash, the man reappeared—in three different spots surrounding her all at once. Starr reached out for his partner and circled his arms around her waist.

“Repeat: That is not the musharna,” he repeated. “Warning: Illusion detected. Please be advised that—”

The three men frowned. “You have failed. How very sad.”

“Mr. Oppenheimer, sir! I can explain!” Belle called out.

Starr’s arms tightened around her. “Repeat: Illusion dete—”

All three figures tilted their heads and gave Belle a saddened frown. “I counted on you to fulfill a very specific mission, my dear. How could you disappoint me so?”

Belle shook her head and tried to push forward, towards the figure directly in front of her, but Starr held her fast.

“N-no!” she cried. “Mr. Oppenheimer, I swear, we didn’t fail! The musharna is here! It’s right here! I swear it is!”

“How sad,” Oppenheimer sighed. “I suppose I have no choice but—”

“Wait! No!” Belle yelled. She started forward, her hands reaching out for Oppenheimer’s robes, but before she could touch him, Starr swept her off her feet and slung her over a shoulder.

“Belle deemed incapable of completing her mission,” he droned. “Mission incomplete. Aborting.”

Starr leapt onto the crumbling wall of the laboratory and bounded away, and over the next few seconds, Belle’s shouts grew more distant and harder for Door to hear. Shortly after Belle and Starr vanished, the remaining pink fog faded away, and all three images of Oppenheimer flickered into nothingness. 

For a few moments, all was still and silent. Door stood, Jack squirming in her arms, as she listened closely to the wind for any sign of Belle. Then, the munna cried out, its song twisting into the air until a deeper voice answered it. Looking down at the interior of the Dreamyard, Door saw a large, purple-and-pink blob float out of the grass and hover in the exact spot where Belle had stood a moment ago. The munna squirmed off the platform and dropped towards the ground until a blue aura lit up around its tiny body and suspended it in thin air. It bounced once and glided towards the larger creature until, at last, it came to a rest on its back. Nuzzling it, the munna cooed and relaxed.

“Musharna,” Geist recited. “The drowsing pokémon. With the mist from its forehead, it can create shapes of things from dreams it has eaten.”

“I know what a musharna is,” Door snapped.

Geist shrugged and stepped towards her. “Just trying to help.”

“Yes, well, you can—hey! Don’t!”

Before she could squirm out of Geist’s grasp, he grabbed her by the waist again, jumped off the platform, and landed within the dilapidated laboratory, just feet from the two pokémon. Door twisted herself out of his grasp and hugged Jack close, but Geist didn’t seem to notice. He only walked forward, approaching the musharna slowly as he extended a hand.

“Munna should be fine,” he said as he reached down to pet the musharna. “I gave her a little medicine, but she’s a tenacious one. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s back to being a handful within the hour.”

The musharna shifted, tilting its body upwards as if to look at him. Door couldn’t quite tell whether or not it actually was; the creature’s eyes remained shut, even as it angled its face to the Companion. But then, the musharna’s eyes slid open and took on a faint, blue glow as it glanced from Geist to Door and back again. It huffed, heaving as a puff of pink smoke burst from the spot on its snout. As the puff drifted towards the tall, dark grass at the edges of the ruins, the musharna hummed a few notes and floated away from Door and Geist. On its back, the munna looked back and blinked at Door and Geist, then lifted a tiny, stubby paw to wave at them before it and its parent disappeared into the grass.

“There they go,” Geist said. Then, he smiled at Door and added, “Nice work, by the way. You too, Jack.”

Jack saluted at him and barked, but Door turned her head away. After a few seconds, she swiveled around and started back towards the Dreamyard gate. She was acutely aware that Geist was jogging after her, but she didn’t bother looking at him.

“Door,” he began.

Before he could go any further, Door quickened her step until she passed the crumbling wall of the abandoned lab, and on the other side, she found Savory and his pansear. The monkey perched on its trainer’s shoulder and stared at Door with a level of concern she didn’t know a fauxkémon could express, but as soon as Geist emerged, it broke eye contact with her and leapt from its trainer to the Companion.

“Geez, he seems excited to see you,” Savory muttered. “So I take it you had a quite a battle in there?”

“Pansear was great,” Geist replied. “He did everything I needed him to do. You’ve trained him well if he’s willing to listen to a Companion like that.”

Savory shrugged. “Keep him, then. I’ve got another one, and he seems like he’s already fond of you.”

“Me?” Geist gave the gym leader a small smile and reached up to pet the fire-type. “Oh no. I can’t. You know the rules. But if you don’t mind, perhaps … Door? Would you like a pansear?”

Truth be told, Door had already tuned the conversation out. She wandered towards the grass, looking out over the sea of green. Real pokémon were starting to appear in the Dreamyard—that was what Amanita and Geist had said. If that was true, then that had to mean that somewhere in those grasses…

“Door?” Geist asked.

“Keep it yourself,” she told him.

“Door, you should know the rules too. I can’t register pokémon in my name. Companions can’t carry pokémon of their own because they can’t legally obtain the licenses to do so. They can only carry pokémon on behalf of their trainers.”

“Why? It’s just a toy.”

Geist sighed. “Not this again.”

Several feet in front of her, the grass began to rustle. She narrowed her eyes and tried to discern what was in it.

“Not what again?” she growled.

“That whole business about fake pokémon and real ones,” Geist replied. “It doesn’t matter whether or not this pansear is real, Door. What matters is—”

“Do you have a poké ball?” she asked.

He stopped. “What?”

She held out her hand. “Mind if I borrow a poké ball? There’s a pokémon in here.”

“Door, I don’t think—”

“Look,” she said. “I don’t care if you keep that pansear for yourself. Savory seems to think it likes _you_ , okay? And you’re not my Companion, so do whatever you want or ask Amanita if you can keep it. I literally can’t even care less. Now do you mind? I’ll pay Amanita back for it.”

There was a beat of hesitation before she felt Geist place an object in her palm.

“Door, I would highly recommend that you—”

She expanded the ball and threw it at the rustling grass. It hit its target with a whack, eliciting a sharp cry from the hidden pokémon. She saw a bright red light, the silhouette of a stocky pokémon, reach up towards the sky before vanishing. As she waded into the field, she listened, straining her ears as the ball clicked and shifted the grass around it.

Then, at last, she found the ball the moment it fell still. Whatever was in that grass, it was hers now, and her heart pounded in her chest at that thought.

Smiling, she plopped Jack onto her shoulder and bent down to scoop the ball up. Then, wading back into the open, Door displayed the ball to Jack and let him lean down to sniff at it. As she stepped back onto the pavement, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride well within her. Her oshawott—her real, living and breathing oshawott—sat fascinated by the ball in her hand, the one that contained her second very real pokémon. This was it. This was the part where she was really, truly on her way to becoming a real trainer. And it was so very easy.

“Thanks,” she said, although she meant it more for Jack’s rapt attention than Geist’s generosity. “Whatever’s in here, I know it’s going to be an amazing addition to my team. From here on out, you and me, Jack. You, me, and whatever’s in here will be absolutely unstoppable, right?”

“I’m sure you will be,” Geist replied.

Door snorted and glanced at him. He stared back with a small smile and a quirked eyebrow, as if she had done something thoroughly embarrassing. But she wasn’t going to let that bother her. She was a real trainer, after all, and what did he, the fake human being, know about anything?

“Damn right,” she said as she held up the ball between them. “This pokémon went down without even the slightest fight. Clearly, that’s a sign I’m going to be an awesome tamer of real pokémon one day.”

“Or it could mean that pokémon wasn’t going to put up a fight in the first place,” Geist replied as he tilted his head at her. “As I was trying to warn you, the pokémon that had captured your attention was…”

“Something awesome, right?” Door asked. “Something that can be trained into a super-strong, intimidating beast of a pokémon, yeah?”

“It was an audino.”

The color drained from Door’s face, but her smile didn’t falter. After a few seconds, Geist put his hand on his hip and sighed again.

“Audino. The hearing pokémon,” Geist recited. “Their auditory sense is astounding. They have a radar-like ability to understand their surroundings through slight sounds. This ability, combined with the species’ gentle nature and healing techniques, make audino ideal nurses. However, it also makes them difficult to train due to their aversion to loud noises, including those typical of a battle. Conclusion: not a good choice for a beginning trainer.”

He turned away from her and began walking towards the Dreamyard gate, just as Door had moments before. Savory was already well ahead of them, leading the way back to Blair and Opal and the spindle tree. Door, meanwhile, stood where she was in stunned silence.

“Come along, Door,” Geist said. “Dr. Fennel is surely waiting for us.”

At that, Door’s expression faltered, and she bowed her head. Jack, breaking his focus on the ball, gave her an inquisitive whine as he patted her on the back, but Door only emitted a long, low groan of her own.

“Why me?” she said.


	10. Amanita's Laboratory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more secrets are revealed than Door would prefer to know about.

To call the ensuing hour in Amanita Fennel’s laboratory awkward would have been an understatement. Savory had parted ways with them at the gate, with the excuse that he had a thing or few to discuss with his fellow gym leaders about the Dreamyard, and Geist had carried Opal upstairs to be repaired and to “upload her memory of the events that transpired this afternoon for analysis.” That left Blair and Door standing awkwardly next to each other against a set of desks—the same ones Scout and Amanita’s snivy had used for battle. For the past half an hour, Blair had stared at her feet as if her shoes had become the most fascinating objects in the room, and Door, meanwhile, had kept herself busy by turning her new audino’s poké ball over in her hand as a thousand conversations filled her head. Every so often, Door would look at the other girl and open her mouth to say something, but just as quickly, she would shut it again and stare at her ball once more.

Finally, she took a deep breath.

“Hey, um, just wanna say I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

She swallowed hard and reached up with her free hand to rub the back of her neck. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blair look up.

“I … what?” the girl replied.

“Sorry,” Door repeated. “Just, um. About Wilbur.”

“What about Wilbur?”

“You know…” Still, Door refused to look at her. She even turned her head away from Blair as she twirled her empty hand in the air. “Scout biting him on the leg. Making him bleed. That kind of thing?”

“Wilbur’s fine.”

Door shifted her head and caught the other girl’s eye. Blair looked bewildered, eyebrows knitted and eyes wide and uncertain. Yet despite that expression, Door relaxed.

“O-oh?” she said.

Blair nodded slowly. “He’s at the pokémon center. The wound wasn’t deep. It’s okay … all right?”

Door relaxed a little more. “Kinda surprised you’re not pissed off at me.”

Looking at her shoes again, Blair shrugged. “Why would I be?”

“I don’t know.” Door rubbed the back of her neck again. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”

Blair didn’t respond. She scuffed her toes against the floor and refused to look up. In that silence, Door stopped, searching her mind for a way to keep talking.

“So … why were you at the Dreamyard anyway?”

“I told you,” Blair responded. “I noticed there was dream smoke coming out of there, so I snuck in with Opal.”

“Yeah, but if Wilbur was in the pokémon cen—” Door stopped as a part of Blair’s statement sunk into her head. For the second time that day, her mind immediately switched gears, and she gave her conversational partner a wary glance. “Wait. What do you mean you snuck in?”

Blair looked up at Door with wide eyes, but this time, her eyebrows were raised. It was clear she had meant to say something else, but the moment to correct herself had long passed.

“I mean I went in before anyone like the police or something got in,” Blair replied quickly.

Door narrowed her eyes at that. “Come to think of it … only those who’d earned the Trio Badge or who’re working for Amanita have permission to be in the Dreamyard. If you’re a fresh graduate from Trainers’ School, then that means…”

Blair bit her lip and cringed, leaning away from Door.

At that, Door frowned and slumped her shoulders. “Blair. Did you earn the Trio Badge?”

For a second, Blair didn’t react—didn’t say anything and didn’t move to indicate an answer one way or another. Then, slowly, she shook her head.

Door pulled her hand from the back of her neck to the front of her bangs. Worming her fingers through her hair, she realized then that she was going to have to say something mature. Responsible. Sisterly.

“Well, look,” she said. “Not everyone can be, y’know. Perfect. We all do things that aren’t exactly by-the—”

“I didn’t graduate from Trainers’ School.”

Door stopped. Narrowed her eyes again. Quirked an eyebrow at Blair. “What?”

Blair tightened her shoulders and pulled them close to her head. “I … I didn’t graduate.” Then, when she spoke next, her voice dropped into what was barely above a mumble. “I wasn’t failing, but my grades weren’t good enough for me to graduate with a trainer’s license.”

“So … what? You’re just getting a starter and going back to school, or…?”

Blair cringed a little more. “I’m dropping out. I-I got a trainer’s license at the pokémon center instead.”

Door’s expression shifted immediately. Her features softened, eyebrows moving from a confused knit to a concerned furrow, and her body leaned towards Blair in an effort to see the girl’s face.

“Blair,” she said.

The new trainer sniffed and wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “Sorry. Please don’t tell my aunt. I won’t tell her about the stuff you said to me. But she was only gonna give me a starter on the condition that I’d graduate, but if I didn’t, then…”

Door held up her hands, palms towards the other girl. “Blair, hold on. I don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get?” Blair asked. “I suck! I screw up all the time on my tests, I can’t even win a single battle except against a stupid patrat, and you know what that girl said to me when she beat me in the Dreamyard? She just tossed Toto aside like she was nothing, and she called me pathetic, and…”

With a sigh, Door slung an arm around Blair and pulled her into an awkward half-hug. Door rolled her eyes and groaned, filling the silence Blair left behind the moment she stopped speaking. Then, with a dramatic dip, Door brought her face close to Blair’s.

“Okay, look,” she said. “Sure, you suck at tests. Everyone sucks at tests. Tests suck, period. If you ask me, the whole concept of a school where you learn things before you go out and become a trainer’s kinda stupid. Training isn’t something _you_ train for. It’s a thing where you do stupid things on the road because the journey itself is supposed to be the thing that teaches you about how much life does whatever it does. I don’t know. I’ve had a long day, so I can’t even tell you whether or not this makes sense, but my point is, just because you suck at school doesn’t mean you suck at everything, got it?”

Blair sniffled and looked at Door from over her arm. “But what about that girl?”

“What girl? You mean the inbred punk rock chick who hasn’t seen a shower in God even knows how long?” Door asked. When Blair cracked a smile at that, Door couldn’t help but grin herself as she said, “She’s a complete jerk. Not to mention she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Jack, my oshawott? Took out her patrat in one hit. Took her out too in another.” Using the hand slung around Blair’s shoulders, Door mimed shooting a gun. “Boom. Just like that.”

Slowly, Blair lowered her arms and widened her grin. “Really?”

“Really.” Door patted her shoulder. “Anyway, point is, don’t listen to her. Everyone sucks at first, but that’s the whole thing about a journey. You don’t actually know what you’re good at until you kinda figure it out by accident along the way.”

“So … you think I should still drop out and go on a journey?”

Door snorted. “Hell, kid. I’ll walk you out of town.”

“Don’t call me ‘kid.’ I’m fourteen.”

Pocketing her audino’s poké ball, Door held up a hand. “Okay. Blair it is.”

Blair’s grin softened. “Thanks, Door. Not … not for the name thing. For everything.”

Door crossed her arms and shrugged again. “Don’t mention it. But … you _did_ mean the thing about not telling Professor Ironwood about the … other thing, right?”

“Were you serious about not telling her I dropped out of Trainers’ School?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we’ve got a deal.”

With a smirk, Blair offered a hand for Door to shake. Door snaked one of hers under her arm and took it, and the two trainers pumped their hands once.

And then, Geist cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said from his spot on the stairwell, “I suppose this would be a good time to tell you Opal’s ready.”

On cue, Blair’s Companion trotted down the steps and waltzed across the laboratory floor to approach her trainer. Her hands were out to her sides, palms parallel to the floor to allow her to show off the polished, new panel that covered her stomach. All the while, her eyes were glowing bright blue, as they always had when she was active.

“Opal!” Blair cried. She pushed off the desk and practically ran to her Companion. Reaching out for her, Blair took Opal’s wrists and looked into her face. “Opal, are you okay?! How’re your power cells?!”

“Fully functional and charged, Blair! Better than new, even!” Opal replied cheerfully. “It helps when the person repairing you has the right parts on-hand, and Dr. Fennel has plenty!” Then, she hesitated, pulling one of her hands out of Blair’s to touch her fingertips to her lips. “But what did I miss? My memory core seems to have a blank between the Dreamyard and now.”

“It’s … it’s a long story,” Blair replied. “We should head to the pokémon center now. I want to see how Wilbur’s doing.”

Opal pulled one of her hands away from Blair’s to salute her partner. “Okay! Destination set! Ready when you are, Blair!”

With a soft grin, Blair whirled around, keeping her hand on Opal’s other wrist. As the trainer stepped towards the entrance to the lab, Door pushed off the desk.

“Hey, Blair?” she asked.

Blair flashed Door a surprised glance. “Yeah?”

“When I said I’d walk you out of town, I was serious,” she told her. “If you’re going to be hanging around the pokémon center for a while, I’ll swing by later on, and we can talk about that. Okay?”

A relieved smile broke across Blair’s face, and with a nod, she replied, “Okay.”

And then, she and her Companion walked out of the lab.

The moment the door shut behind them, the stairs creaked. Door looked up to see Geist standing straight in the stairwell—straighter than he had a second ago.

“Dr. Fennel will see you now,” he said.

Door tightened her arms and walked towards the stairs. As she reached for the banister, she hesitated and looked directly at Geist.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “No. Why would you think that?”

“I mean…” She flicked her eyes towards the door. “The whole ‘Dr. Fennel will see you now’ thing. Kinda sounds like meeting the principal if you messed up in school.”

“Oh. I can assure you, you did absolutely nothing wrong.” Then, after a pause, Geist added, “But you _did_ make up with Blair, did you not?”

“Guess you walked in after that,” Door muttered. “Yeah. We talked things over. She’s apparently gone through a lot.”

“Ah.”

“Poor kid. Kinda feel sorry for her now.”

Geist frowned for a moment, then reached out to motion towards the top of the steps. “You’d better go upstairs. Dr. Fennel is waiting.”

Without even a nod to him, Door climbed the stairs and brushed past him. She emerged into the living quarters a moment later—or, more specifically, what was apparently a living room. Two couches were arranged around a glass-topped coffee table in the center of the space, and the wall closest to Door was lined with framed pictures and low bookshelves filled with books. Straight ahead, she saw a set of three doors, one of which opened into what appeared to be a small repair shop; Door could see the types of chairs Companions would sit in when being serviced through the doorway. To her left was a simple, open kitchen, in which Amanita stood with one hand on a tablet computer and another on a coffee pot.

“Dr. Fennel?” Door called. “Geist said you were waiting for me.” Amanita looked over her shoulder. “Hmm? Ah! Yes, of course! Close the door, dear, and come on over. I don’t want Geist to hear our conversation.”

That request struck Door as a little odd, but nonetheless, she shrugged and did as she was told. Closing the door quietly, she stalked across the living room, hands jammed into her pockets, until she stood behind a set of stools at the divider separating the kitchenette from the living room. From that angle, Door could see the pair of coffee mugs sitting on the kitchenette counter in front of Amanita. The scientist finished pouring one cup, then shifted the pot to the other, all while keeping her eyes on a tablet computer.

“Interesting turn of events in the Dreamyard there,” Amanita said. “Never pegged Belle and Starr as someone else’s hired hands when I met them. They always seemed like a standup pair of potential scientists.”

Door snorted. Maybe Starr would have been—one could program a Companion to be anything they wanted it to be, after all—but Belle was an entirely different matter.

“You really think so?” Door said.

Amanita cracked a grin. “Sure. And before you ask, Cassius Cassine was a lot worse off before he got his training. You could rehabilitate a lot of folks, so long as they’re willing to listen to you. That’s what Bill always taught us, anyway.”

“Um … right.” Door rubbed the back of her neck. “So … what did you need to talk about? Reward for delivering Geist or something?”

With a click, Amanita slid the coffeepot back into place. She was quiet for a second as she picked up one of the mugs of coffee and placed her tablet on the divider’s counter, in front of Door. Tapping something on its face, she let the tablet’s holographic projector flicker to life. Above the screen, a small image of Door appeared, standing with one fist clenched at her side and the other hand waving wildly in front of her.

“And now you're being open about it?!” the image demanded.

Geist’s voice, from a source unseen, responded, “Being open about what?”

“That you're a Companion!”

Amanita reached over to tap the tablet’s face, and the image of Door dissipated.

“Coffee?” Amanita asked as she extended one of the cups to Door.

Door could feel her face burn with an embarrassed blush, and she shook her head. Amanita frowned and dumped the coffee back into the pot.

“Suit yourself,” Amanita said.

“I, um … thanks, but…” Swallowing hard, she glanced at the tablet again and chuckled nervously. “S-so, uh, you grabbed all the video from Geist’s memory core?”

Amanita grasped the other cup. Her free hand reached for a small sugar bowl in the shape of a munna, just next to the coffeemaker.

“Mmhmm,” she replied.

Door stared at the counter. She could practically feel a part of her curl up and die in her chest. “So I guess you saw all the things I said to him already.”

“Not all of it. Just the Dreamyard so far. Geist told me I’d be most interested in what happened there.”

Amanita removed the lid of the sugar bowl and started spooning sugar into her coffee, and Door watched the spoon dip into and out of the container. Instantly, she felt relief. Amanita hadn’t seen much, then. Not the time Door tried to hurt Scout, not all the things she said about Companions … nothing except the Dreamyard. Relaxing, Door sat back and thought about what Amanita had just shown her—about the clip in particular.

“So … so was it interesting?” Door asked at last.

“Oh yes.” Amanita replied with a chuckle. “I got a kick out of that part in particular.”

All at once, Door’s face burned again, and she turned her head away from her host. “To be fair, Geist looks just like a human at first glance.”

Amanita’s spoon clinked against her mug a few times—slowly, as if she was choosing her next moves carefully. And then, at last, she tapped the spoon on the edge of her cup and placed it in the mug that she had offered Door.

“Oh, I know,” Amanita said. “Geist was specifically designed to be as close to human as possible. Even newer models aren’t as close to human as he is.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows. “Then what was so funny about that clip? Why show me that clip if you knew I wouldn’t have been able to recognize what Geist was?”

“Well, two reasons,” Amanita said as she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “First, I’d like to apologize to you because it _is_ rather rude to lead you on like that. Second…”

Amanita’s voice trailed off briefly as her eyes fell onto Door. The trainer shifted uncomfortably on her feet as she brought her cup back to her lips.

“Second?” she asked.

“Second, truth is…” She exhaled pressed her mug against her chin. “After seeing that clip, I thought it’d be best to have Geist send you up for a chat. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions that need answers.”

At that, Door held up her hands to stop the older woman in her tracks. “Whoa. Look. I’m sure this all is fascinating, but I don’t need answers. I delivered Geist as promised. I’m good with not knowing what’s up.”

Peering over the counter, Amanita raised her eyebrows at Door. “A granddaughter of Brigette who isn’t curious? Now that’s something.”

She stopped to sip her coffee. Door watched her tilt her head back and smack her lips afterwards in thought.

“Well, dear,” Amanita said, “I can’t very well make you stay and chat, so if you really don’t want to ask, you don’t have to. Feel free to go back downstairs. Geist has been instructed to give you an appropriate reward before you leave.”

Huh. That was easy. Door shifted from one foot to the other as she mulled over Amanita’s words. Was this _too_ easy?

“Thanks,” she said cautiously. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “And, um. Sorry. For, y’know. Seeming rude here.”

“Not at all! Take care, Door.”

And that was that. Amanita turned her back on the living room and brought her mug to her lips, and Door was left standing awkwardly in the middle of a stranger’s living room. Frowning, Door tilted her head and waited for a beat, as if expecting something else, but when Amanita only continued to sip her coffee in silence, Door nodded and moved to the stairs. Without a word of goodbye, she reached out, her fingertips brushing the doorknob…

...before stopping altogether.

Door sighed and cursed internally and profusely. She whirled around, walked back to the divider, and took a seat on one of the stools.

Once again, an adult played her like a _fiddle_.

“Okay,” she said, her voice dripping with exasperation. “First question. Is he a Companion or isn’t he?”

Amanita shifted to face Door with a wide, friendly grin. “I thought you’d ask. Yes, Geist is a Companion, through and through. One hundred percent artificial human.”

Door arched an eyebrow and nodded slowly. “Uh huh. So does he … I mean, that’s a stupid question because he said he knew in the Dreamyard, but—”

“Yes, Geist knows he’s a Companion.”

At once, Door’s curiosity burned away into a spike of frustration. “So why’d he pretend he wasn’t?! Why’d he talk about himself like he was just some garden-variety amnesiac?!”

“Can’t say for certain, dear,” Amanita replied with a shrug. “Sometimes, Geist just likes to be coy.” She hesitated, her eyes drifting to the ceiling again. “Although come to think of it, he _did_ say something about how you didn’t care for Companions. Maybe he was just trying to avoid making you feel uncomfortable. He’s designed to be sympathetic, you know.”

Door cringed. Of course he had to tell Amanita that part. As if she needed to look even _worse_ in front of another human being. Sure, her reason for hating Companions was, in her mind anyway, completely understandable and her own personal opinion that no one in their right mind would judge her for, but she knew that Geist, with his soft sighs and posh accent, would find a way to make it seem like hating his entire kind was a _bad_ thing.

And _then_ , there was the part where Amanita thought he might have simply been coy, which to Door sounded as if he had deliberately—

Wait a second.

“What do you mean you can’t say for certain why he was pretending? He’s a Companion! It’s not like anything’s actually going through his head! Wouldn’t you have, you know, _known_ that he was acting on the protocols for a mischievous Companion or something? Like … doesn’t he have set characteristics like every other Companion?”

Using one of her hands, Amanita rubbed the back of her head. “Well … that’s true, but Geist is a bit … special.”

Door did not like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

Amanita gave her a long, serious look. “You’ve noticed it, haven’t you? How Geist sometimes seems … _human_ , as it were?”

Of course she had. That was the first thing she noticed. Door felt her frustration bubble up and fill every part of her body. Her throat constricted, and it felt as if something large and cold was welling up in her throat. All she wanted was a straight answer, but…

Taking a deep breath, Door tried to calm herself. Maybe she wasn’t asking the right question. Maybe … maybe it wasn’t so much _what_ Geist was but instead _why_ he was.

And maybe Door had to dig in a different direction to figure that part out.

So she began. “Dr. Fennel—”

“Amanita.”

“Right. Amanita.” Door hesitated. The first question was the most important. That much she knew. “Who made Geist?”

The scientist smirked. Apparently, the first question was the right one.

“Your great aunt,” Amanita replied.

Door paused again, but this time, it was for a short moment. She punctuated it by slapping her forehead.

“Oh my God. I’ll dismantle him,” she groaned. Then, peering at Amanita, she added, “He’s from Kanto. If he’s with you now, then he meant he lived with my great aunt, didn’t he?”

“Technically yes, although Kanto _does_ have its own administrator he could’ve been with.” Amanita brought her cup to her lips. “Still, you’re not wrong.”

Door winced at her response. _Geist had another owner._ Things were starting to click into place.

“So … when he said he doesn’t remember anything before he came to you,” Door said slowly, “that meant…”

“That he was wiped, just like any other used Companion before they end up with new owners?” Amanita took a sip, then pulled her cup away from her lips only just enough to let her speak. “Yep.”

Door rubbed her face, trailing her hand slowly downwards until she reached her chin. Then, she shoved her elbow against the counter and leaned in, squinting once more at Amanita. “Chrissake,” she said. “Why couldn’t he just _say_ that?”

With a grin, Amanita swirled her cup, splashing lukewarm coffee over the rim and onto her hand. “Already went over that, dear. But … wouldn’t you like to know why he’s so special—or why your friends with Team Matrix are after him?”

And there, Door paused. Before that point, Door didn’t think she could narrow her eyes at a person any more than what she was already doing as she stared at Amanita. But that statement—not only the way it was delivered with the woman’s coy smile and teasing tone but also _the actual content of it_ —allowed Door to transcend to a completely different plane of fed up with literally everything. So, she found a way to narrow her eyes even more without closing them completely.

“What.” Her reaction was not a question. It was a statement.

Amanita’s grin softened a little, easing from coy to sheepish as she brought her cup to her lips again. “Team Matrix is after Geist. Or at least, I think that’s one of the things they’re doing. Who’s to say about organizations like these? But in any case, they are. Don’t ask me why; I just know. And I know because … well, that’s why your grandmother had me hold onto him for a few years.”

So that was it. Door relaxed, exhaling through her nose. Granted, she didn’t know whether or not Amanita was telling the truth, but if she was, then it would have made sense.

After all, Door knew her grandmother. Or, rather, she didn’t _know_ her grandmother, and that was the problem and point all in one. Brigette Hamilton-Hornbeam—former administrator of Pokémon Bank, former CEO of Halcyon Labs, former a lot of other things related to innovative tech Door could barely comprehend—had not spoken to her own son and granddaughter for over ten years. Linus had tried, of course. There was always a voicemail message on Brigette’s birthday, cards on holidays, anything to stay connected, but Brigette never bothered visiting them and certainly showed the minimum amount of warmth towards Door.

But if there was one thing Door knew about Brigette—other than the fact that she was practically an ice queen as far as she was concerned—it was that Door was poised to inherit this great big family history full of things like a massive tech empire and the words “revolutionized the face of” … and the only reason why she knew about any of it was because she was taught about it in school. She wasn’t told any of it by her grandmother or her often scatterbrained father. It was fed to her by some musty textbook in the back of a classroom, through lectures peppered with kids swiveling around to look at her, through secondhand stories flavored with the excitement of people who apparently knew her family more than she did.

So yes. She understood that Amanita had no idea why an evil organization was after a Companion Brigette had dumped on her. Dumping important things onto the heads of innocent bystanders with as minimal an explanation as possible was just something Door’s grandmother _did_.

And so, Door felt a little bit of sympathy for Amanita as she finally responded.

“I’m listening,” Door said.

Amanita sighed, and Door couldn’t help but notice the slightly relieved note it carried.

“You see,” Amanita began, “Geist is a lot older than he looks, and … well. Your aunt died—what, ten years ago?”

Door shrugged. She knew she should have felt a little somber at the mention of her great aunt’s death, but the truth was she didn’t feel anything at all. “Yeah.”

Amanita flicked her fingers across her tablet, and its holographic screen flickered to life once more. “Well, Geist has only been with me for the past three years.”

Shifting her eyes to the ceiling, Door did the math and nodded slowly. “Okay. So…”

“So where was he for the past seven years? Bouncing between all of us.”

Amanita’s fingers struck the glass surface of her tablet once more, and a photograph popped up on the screen above it. Door sat in silence, her eyes scanning across the row of people before her. Eight people stood frozen in time, gathered on the stone steps of a brick building Door couldn’t recognize. All of them looked happy and excited to be there. It was strange for Door to see her grandmother smiling, yet there she was, right in the center, proud and happy and young beside Geist. Lanette stood on his other side, just as young and happy, with her arm looped in his as she smiled shyly to the camera. And next to Lanette must have been Amanita, a literal child perched on the concrete banister. Door couldn’t recognize the others—not the perky blonde woman next to Amanita, the tall punk on the rightmost edge, or either of the two bespectacled human walking sticks taking up most of the left side. And even when Amanita named them, she still didn’t.

“Let’s see,” Amanita said. “Well, for the first few years, he was with Rachel McKenzie in Johto, who isn’t pictured here because this was taken before all that. After then, he moved to Sinnoh and spent a couple years with your grandmother in Hoenn.”

She prodded at the photograph, at Brigette’s smiling face. The image distorted beneath her touch, rippling like water until it resolved. Somehow, Brigette’s smile looked wrong when it did. Fake somehow. So did the others as Amanita shifted her finger from face to face.

“Then it was a couple years in Sinnoh with Bebe Larson,” Amanita continued. “Then, so I’ve heard, a very brief time in Kalos with Cassius Cassine, followed by, finally, yours truly.” Her finger lingered on the image of her childhood self, and her voice dropped in volume. “Right around Johto, Team Matrix suddenly popped up, and apparently, the messages they sent Ray scared her enough to force her to send him off to another region. But … well. You can probably figure it out from there.”

Door didn’t need to think about it. She barely needed to say it, but it spilled out of her mouth all the same. “They all got messages.”

Amanita pulled her finger away and rested her hand on the counter. “Got it in one. All of them demanded that we hand Geist over.”

She flicked the tablet again, and the photo shifted to the side, just enough for another window to appear. Door leveled her eyes on it, staring hard at the email client with a single message open and glaring back at her.

_Zero-One is a mistake that must be fixed. You have one chance to do the right thing. Our agents will be in touch shortly._

Door furrowed her eyebrows at those words. Something didn’t make sense.

Or, well, none of it made sense, but there was something about Amanita’s story that seemed … odd. It nagged at the back of her mind, even as Amanita continued.

“Dummy email from a server in Kalos, of course. Perfectly untraceable,” Amanita said. “So, figuring I couldn’t put up a fight myself, I hoped that by sending Geist to your father, I could at least hide him until all of this blew over—or until your father could get him to your company’s headquarters in Castelia.”

Door reeled back at that statement. “Wait. Geist was delivering starters, not coming for help … wasn’t he?”

Amanita gave her guest a wry smile. “Door, I still don’t know how Team Matrix found him. I had to be cautious, so I told all three of my assistants at the time that that’s what he was doing and sent them off. I figured that Professor Ironwood would know what to do, and hey, it couldn’t hurt. Her niece had been asking for a starter for months anyway, and if Geist ran into trouble, well. Then he and my other assistants were all armed. Win-win for everyone.” She hesitated for a beat. “Except for the part where Belle and Starr turned out to be the agents in question, anyway. Shame, too. They were with me for a year, and they came highly recommended. Girl has a head on her shoulders, really.”

How Belle could pass off as anything remotely legit was beyond Door, but she didn’t think to ask. In truth, it didn’t seem quite as important as a lot of other oddities about Amanita’s story, and a thousand more questions spun through Door’s mind. Why was Belle at the Dreamyard? Why did she try to steal the starters? What was Team Matrix, really? If they were after Companion liberation, then what could they have wanted with a real snivy and a real musharna?

And most importantly…

“So … why does Team Matrix want him?” she asked.

Amanita brought her coffee cup to her lips and stopped. “Hmm?

Swallowing, Door pressed on. “I mean, when you wipe a Companion, then they’re completely reset. Stealing Geist would be just like stealing a fresh-out-of-the-box Companion. If Team Matrix is all about Companions, you’d think they’d know that.”

“Oh, no doubt, dear, but Geist is a little different. You see, it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s wiped. The point is…” Amanita hesitated, glancing at the ceiling as if the right words were painted above her. “Well, he’s the prototype.”

The ensuing silence was short, but it was thick and heavy as Door processed that thought.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What?”

Amanita motioned to her with her mug. “I told you he was older than he looks.”

“But…” Door screwed up her face and shook her head vigorously. “The prototype as in … the first Companion?”

“That would be what ‘prototype’ means, yes.”

Door’s eyebrows rose. “But that would make him, what? Forty years old?”

“Probably closer to forty-five,” her host replied.

Door splayed her hands out in front of her, palms up. “But … how?! Companions start experiencing massive slowdown when they’re _half_ that age!”

Amanita gestured to the ceiling with a finger. “Ah, and therein lies the interesting part. While I don’t rightly know for certain _what_ in Geist causes that, I _do_ know that he was not only the prototype but also your great aunt’s personal Companion.”

“Yeah. We already—”

“Which means that whenever she had a new feature to test out, she most likely tried it on Geist first.”

As Amanita downed the rest of her coffee, Door opened her mouth again to speak, but then, after a moment of silence, she closed it again. A realization descended on her in that time, settling into her brain gradually, as if it was a liquid filling the crevices of her cerebral cortex.

“So,” she said, “you’re saying…”

“That when I say Geist is the prototype, I mean for _literally everything_?” Amanita nodded. “Yes. It _also_ means that there’s a possibility that he’s got cutting edge, experimental tech inside of him. Not just tech that’s been keeping him running all these decades either. I’m talking about tech that your aunt never had the chance to release before she … well.”

Another silence descended on the room, this time cold and empty, not thick and expectant. Amanita didn’t need to finish that sentence, but frankly, Door wouldn’t have minded if she had.

Because the first and last time Door had ever seen Lanette Hamilton was at the woman’s funeral … which was funny to Door, given that Lanette was apparently the reason why her family was famous at all.

But Door didn’t want to say that. Amanita was a stranger, after all. What kind of guest would she be if she dumped old family drama on her? So, swallowing her frustration, Door nodded and said, “Yeah. I get it.”

Amanita must have noticed how awkward and quiet Door had become, because at that point, she coughed lightly into her hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Barely knew her.”

“Of course.”

Amanita turned away and set her mug on the kitchen counter. Door’s eyes settled on the coffeepot as the scientist pulled it free and began making another steaming cup of coffee. There was something soothing about the motion, the way Amanita swept the carafe out of the machine and the way the coffee hit the mug with a splash. Door inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and already, she was regretting the decision to turn down a cup. The conversation and onslaught of revelations already left her feeling drained, and she had the feeling she was only partway through the story. And given the fact that she hadn’t had a decent cup of coffee in almost two days, Door wasn’t looking forward to hearing the rest of the story without a hefty dose of caffeine.

But then, Amanita shoved the carafe back in place, and Door’s mind was forced to refocus on the woman, sans coffee.

“Anyway,” Amanita continued, “point is, that’s the long and short of it. Team Matrix wants Geist because he could be carrying around tech to make whatever it is they want to do possible.”

Door grimaced again. “And I’m leaving that hunk of junk with you.”

She reached up and placed a finger on the hologram still projected in front of her. Pressing her fingertip into her grandmother’s face, Door twitched the picture back and forth as she digested everything Amanita had just told her. Then, she stopped and gazed through the picture at Amanita, who was busy pouring milk into her coffee.

“Wait,” she said. “Why are you okay with me going back to Nuvema City if Team Matrix is desperate to get their hands on your Companion?”

“Because after looking at Geist’s video memories, I called in a favor from the Striaton gym leaders, and if absolutely no one else is available, then Sage will take him to Halcyon Labs,” Amanita replied casually.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” Amanita added sugar and stirred, clinking the spoon against her mug as if to punctuate her words. “So you probably shouldn’t worry about it, dear. We’ll be fine. I have no doubt Savory’s gathering the troops to make sure we’re safe through the night too.”

“I dunno. Maybe,” Door mumbled.

Amanita tapped her spoon against the rim of her mug and took the first sip of her new cup of coffee. As she pulled it away, she sighed in exaggerated contentment and let her shoulders sag. Door smiled a little. For an old woman, Amanita was a character, and if everything she had shared was true, then Door felt a little bit guilty. Even with the reassurance that the Striaton gym leaders were going to do everything they could to protect her and get Geist out of her life, the fact of the matter was that anything that would happen to her—and, in truth, all of the things that had already happened—would clearly be Brigette Hamilton’s fault. What else could Door do but feel for the woman?

Probably feel a little guilty by extension, but it wasn’t as if Door was about to do the noble thing and claim responsibility for it. And she knew that made her a slightly terrible person, but did she really want to get involved with an evil organization and a generations-old dose of family drama when she could just go home and forget all of this? No. No, she did not.

Her eyes settled back on the picture of her grandmother. This was where she came from. This was who her grandmother was. But this was all in the past, and it technically didn’t have anything to do with Door, so could she really be blamed if—

A pop-up appeared under her finger, snapping her out of her daze. At first, her mind waved it off as a perfectly ordinary part of the system—just a tiny box that listed off all the basic information about the image—but then she looked at it.

Really looked at it.

And then she did the math.

“Hey … Amanita?”

The woman didn’t turn around. It was as if she knew what the question was before Door had asked it. “Yes, dear?”

“You … you said that Geist is about forty, right?”

“Forty-five at the oldest, yes. Why?”

Slowly, Door pulled her finger away from the image, but the pop-up remained.

“This photo was taken over fifty years ago,” she said quietly.

“Oh. Yes, I suppose it has.”

Amanita whirled back around and eyed the photograph. She prodded it with a finger, minimizing the email client and forcing the photograph to take up the entire holographic screen again. Then, she flicked the pop-up itself to flip it around.

“This was a picture of all of us—the original set of core administrators for the storage system, I mean,” Amanita explained. “Last Pokécon we attended together, in … maybe 2005? Ah. Guess it would be, if the date created’s right.”

Door raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah, that’s great and all, but if that was five to ten years before Geist existed…” She jammed her finger into the image of the man at the center of the photograph. “Then what the hell is this?”

Amanita’s face blanked. Just blanked, all of a sudden. Door froze, finger still poking halfway through the projection, as she watched Amanita’s expression shift and darken until it was almost … sad? Bewildered? As if she had just realized Door lacked a vital piece of the puzzle, and this was the worst possible thing in the world.

All of a sudden, any suspicion Door had that the woman was hiding anything from her vanished.

“Is … is that why you didn’t know Geist was a Companion?” Amanita asked softly.

Door blinked. “What?”

Amanita covered her mouth with a hand and turned away. When she spoke, her voice was low and hurried, as if she was talking more to herself than to Door. “Oh. That makes so much sense now. I mean … it’d be a little odd that you would assume he was human if you knew who—Lanette went to great lengths to make him look identical, and there’s no way a human being could look that close.”

She _had_ missed something. But what? Door screwed up her face and drew her shoulders in defensively. “ _What?_ ”

“Then again, how could you have not known what he looks like?” Amanita continued, as if she hadn’t heard Door either time. “Or … maybe you kids don’t know anymore. Kids in my day didn’t know what Steve Wozniak looked like, never mind Paul Allen, so maybe … nah, that still doesn’t explain…”

Right about then was when Door had had enough. She threw her hand out of the projection and slapped the counter in front of her, drawing the woman’s attention back to her.

“Amanita!” she barked. Then, she pointed to the image. “ _What?!_ ”

The scientist set her coffee cup down. One of her hands curled by her face, and the other rested its fingertips on the rim of her mug.

“Door,” she said, “did your grandmother ever tell you anything about … I mean … don’t you have pictures of…?” She motioned to the man in the center of the projection.

“No?” Door squeaked.

For the third time in their conversation, there was a long pause, and this time, it was once again cold and awkward and stifling.

And then, Amanita huffed and shook her head.

“I’m gonna have to have a word with your grandmother,” she sighed.

Door winced. “Why?”

“Because, Door, this”—she pointed to the man, as if to emphasize her thought—“is not Geist, as you’ve already realized. Instead, I’d like for you to meet the reason why all of us are where we are today: the original inventor of the storage system, Dr. Bill McKenzie.”

Door stared at her with complete incomprehension.

“Really? Nothing?” Amanita groaned and rolled her eyes. “Geez, what do they teach you kids in school these days? Fifty years ago, Bill was a household name!”

“Uh … we might’ve covered him in history class? I dunno. I kinda … wasn’t paying attention.” Door cringed.

“ _Dear._ ”

Door splayed her hands out in front of her. “Well, come on! If I wasn’t gonna hear it from my grandma—”

With one hand held up to Door, Amanita used the other to pick her mug up again. “All right. I get it. Really, I’m a little disappointed in Brigette myself. We all swore we wouldn’t let Bill be forgotten, and here we are, fifty years later…” She trailed off with another shake of her head.

Door’s eyes settled on the photograph again, on the figure at its center. She knew she had been traveling with what was apparently his robot double for the past two days, but to her, Geist’s human predecessor was … somehow less impressive. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, although it may have had to do with how casual he looked. How very … ordinary, for someone her grandmother and Amanita swore should never be forgotten.

“So … what? He was a big deal?” she asked.

Amanita snorted. “Was he a big deal? Oh, goodness.” She motioned to Door again with the hand that held her mug, splashing coffee onto the counter next to the tablet. “Like I said, he’s the reason why any of us are here—including trainers like you. Imagine what life would be like without the _storage system_. A lot of things about pokémon had been complete mysteries to us. Trainers never bothered catching a lot of pokémon, researchers couldn’t catch or keep samples … heck, even the regional leagues couldn’t sprawl as far as they do now. Then Bill came along with his system, and boom! Training as you knew it completely changed.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “But … my aunt invented the storage system.”

Placing a hand on her hip, Amanita grinned and held up her coffee cup. “Is that what they say nowadays? Ha! I’m sure Bill woulda gotten a kick out of hearing _that_. Honey, no, the original idea was _his_.”

She stopped for a second to take a sip. As she drank, she glanced at the ceiling in thought. Then, slowly, she pulled her mug away.

“Granted, your great aunt was brilliant in her own right,” Amanita continued. “The original storage system was a text-based interface. Nearly unnavigable to anyone who wasn’t fluent in line code. Your great aunt gave it a GUI and even bashed the entire concept of user accessibility into Bill’s head until he stopped cooking up stuff only code monkeys like us can use.” She chuckled. “Those two were a _pair_ , dear. Bill was brilliant. Lanette was creative. And the two of them just had a way of bouncing ideas off each other unlike anything else the rest of us could’ve achieved. And that’s why…”

Her voice trailed off, and Door stared at her for a beat until she realized the woman wasn’t going to continue.

“That’s … why what?” Door asked.

Amanita set her mug on the counter and arched her fingers over its mouth again. Her expression gained a frown and a faraway look, and her mouth twitched.

“That’s why Lanette was closer to him than any of us,” she said at last.

Her voice was low, quiet, and just barely audible, and because of that, Door waited again, letting the woman gather her thoughts. Then, after a deep breath, Amanita continued.

“All of us looked up to Bill,” she explained. “He … he had this way of looking at things. Everything had a purpose. Everything had a reason for being. So no matter who you were or where you came from, he’d look at you and just know how to push you to do your best. So when I say everyone looked up to him, I mean it. But Lanette? Lanette was his best friend. She didn’t see him the way we did. She was … well, she was his _equal_ —his _partner_. Those two went together like a left hand and a right hand. Whenever you saw those two working … it was something magical, dear.”

It didn’t take a genius to know where this was going. The distant, soft tone. The past tense. The way Amanita was carefully choosing her words. Door knew she wasn’t being tactful because Lanette was dead and gone; she wasn’t stupid. But the story had to be finished. She could see that in Amanita’s face, in the way she was pausing to think of a way to press onward. So when Door spoke next, it was out of obligation: out of her own need to hear Amanita’s words and out of Amanita’s need to speak.

“So … what happened?” she asked.

Amanita looked almost relieved to hear Door ask. She shrugged, and as she brought her shoulders down, her body visibly relaxed. “Well, Bill died. Went pretty young, too. Probably … oh, fifty years ago, I guess. Not long after this picture was taken. It doesn’t matter. The point is, all of a sudden, we were this fledgling group of people whose lives had been irrevocably changed by this one person, and that person was dead and gone. You’d better believe it hit us _all_ hard, but it hit some of us harder than others. Your great aunt, for example.”

Door shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The metaphorical pieces were coming together, and the picture was starting to get uglier in her mind.

She thought briefly about what she knew of her great aunt. Lanette Hamilton, the former administrator of the Hoenn network, the founder of Halcyon Labs, the supposed inventor of the storage system. Only she wasn’t one of those things apparently, and that was bad enough, but to Door, there was more. This was the woman who shut herself up in a remote corner of Kanto, the woman who cut all ties to her family and the rest of the outside world, the eccentric inventor who supposedly went the way of Nikola Tesla and Howard Hughes and all the other brilliant crazies before her.

And now, Door knew her as something else: as the woman who made a robot butler that looked _exactly_ like a dead man.

“So … you’re saying that she made Geist look like her best friend because he died?” she asked.

“That’s my theory, yep,” Amanita replied. “No one’s really confirmed that. Not to me anyway, but your grandma might be able to shed some light on that.” She pushed her coffee cup a little further away from her. “Which brings us to the point of the matter! Door, I’d hate to do this, but I have another job for you.”

“Huh?” Door shook her head vigorously. “Uh … sure. I guess. What’s up?”

“I need you to deliver Geist to Halcyon Labs HQ,” Amanita replied.

Door jolted. If her mind was calm and methodical before, it was running at the speed of light now, and every muscle in her body was just as electrified as her brain was. She sat bolt upright, back straight and stiff, hands balled into fists on the counter in front of her, eyes wide and fixed completely on Amanita.

“What?!” she exclaimed. “But that’s all the way in Castelia City! And didn’t you just say Sage was gonna do it?!”

In response, Amanita gave her a shamefaced smile. “I know. But if you’ve made it to here from Nuvema, you should have no problem getting across Nacrene and the Skyarrow. There’s even a gym in Nacrene, if you liked Striaton’s.”

“But…” Door gazed at Amanita helplessly. “Why me?!”

“Well, dear, if Team Matrix is after Geist, then there’s no safer place for him than Halcyon’s HQ,” Amanita said. “Unfortunately, poor Geist can’t go there himself, being a Companion and all, and while Sage _could_ be the one to take him, she’s got gym duties to attend to. It’d be much easier for all of us if you went, sorry to say. And besides, wouldn’t you like to ask your grandma a few questions? Like, for example, why she never told you about Bill?”

Door settled into her seat and narrowed her eyes at her host. She grumbled a few words under her breath about not knowing about Bill because she didn’t care, about how secretive her grandmother was, and about how stupid Geist was, but she didn’t string together a sentence coherent or audible enough for Amanita to catch. She made sure of that. Part of that was because she didn’t want the attached argument, and part of it was because she knew that somewhere, deep down, she was just a little bit curious.

Nonetheless, Amanita held up a hand again to calm her. “I know. You’d rather just go back to Nuvema and forget about all this Companion business, wouldn’t you? Or at least, that’s the impression a certain little birdie told me while I was downloading his memories and fixing up the other girl’s Companion. And you know what he also told me? That another certain someone wants to be a researcher someday. So why don’t I make you an offer? Do this for me, find out what your grandma knows, and I might just be able to work something out with Professor Ironwood. Transfer your internship over here. Let you work with real pokémon. What do you say?”

She moved her hand, extending it for Door to shake. Door hesitated in response, and her expression—and, for that matter, her entire body—relaxed. Her eyes flicked from Amanita’s hand to her face.

“Seriously?” she asked cautiously.

Amanita grinned. “Seriously.”

For a moment, Door merely sat where she was, considering the offer. It wasn’t because she wasn’t sure whether or not she should take it; she knew this could be her dream job. But the problem was she wasn’t sure whether or not she should believe Amanita. Sure, she had believed her about the story—she had seen the photograph, and she knew her grandmother would lie to the woman, after all—but this wouldn’t be the first time someone had duped her into a job. What if the reward wasn’t real? And what if, beyond that, Amanita had told her what she _thought_ was the truth, but in actuality, Brigette had lied to her about everything? What if Door was walking into one big mess, far bigger than she had ever dreamed of?

But on the other hand, what if everything was real, and in a week, she would be working with real pokémon?

Real pokémon. Was the risk of a mess worth that?

Door bobbed her head back and forth and then finally decided that, yes, it was.

“All right,” she said, shaking Amanita’s hand. “But I’m holding you to that.”

Amanita smiled as if she knew Door would say that. “Naturally, dear! Now, I know it’s gonna be a long walk to Nacrene, so if you’d like, I’ve got a couch and a blanket you’re welcome to use for the night.”

“Huh? Oh, um. N-no,” Door quickly said, her mind flashing back to Blair. “I have … I promised someone I’d meet them at the pokémon center.”

Amanita’s grin gained a warm, knowing shade as she broke away from Door. Flicking her pad, she dispelled the photograph and brought up a folder in its place.

“Ah, the Whitleigh girl, is it?” she asked.

Door felt her face burn with a blush. “It-it’s not what you think!”

Amanita waved a hand in the air. “Don’t worry, Door. It’s good to have a healthy rivalry on journeys like this! Now, you’d better run along. Blair’s not the only one waiting for you.”

For a second, Door hesitated, staring at Amanita blankly until it dawned on her that the scientist had meant the very person she was supposed to be escorting. Shaking her head, Door jolted herself alert.

“R-right,” she said. “And, um … thanks. For the offer, I mean.”

Amanita tapped a file within the folder, bringing up a window with plain text sprawled across it. “Don’t mention it, Door. Just be careful out there and stay in touch as much as possible, okay?”

Door nodded, then started for the staircase. As she opened the door one more time, she glanced over her shoulder at Amanita, who was already busy scrolling through the file. With one last grin, Door slipped into the stairwell and shut the door behind her.

For that reason, she didn’t read the words filling Amanita’s screen.

—

_> README.TXT_   
_ > Author: Cassius Cassine_

_First of all, if you’ve found this file on your own, congratulations. You’re one of the rare people who’re capable of bypassing the security measures of not one but three of the original members of the Pokémon Storage System’s core development team. In plain Common, that either means technology has advanced to the point where what we do is child’s play, or it means you’re a straight-up computer genius. Either way, take pride in getting this far._

_Now, I don’t like beating around the bush, and I know you probably have better things to do than read a readme file—if you’re reading this at all. So let me just lay it out for you straight._

_Enclosed in this folder is a whole stack of documentation which was cobbled together by me, Bebe Larson, and Lanette Hamilton herself. All of them detail the inner workings of this very specific Companion you have in your possession, as well as some history behind why I needed to write this. Read these files carefully and think about them._

_Once you’ve done that much, you’ll probably be a little weirded out. That’s okay. I was too when I found all this stuff. But unlike you, I was a dumbass and a coward. I didn’t have the guts to fix things myself, and I own up to that. And between you and me, that’s why I wrote this file: so maybe, just maybe, someone like you will come along and do the right thing._

_What I mean to say, reader, is my name is Cassius Cassine, and in the following files, I’m going to walk you through everything you need to know to fix Bill McKenzie’s biggest mistake._


	11. Extra #2: Downtown Striaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two friends talk to a small, defenseless gym leader. And by "talk to," we mean "gang up on," and by "small, defenseless gym leader," we mean "Savory."

When Savory shut Amanita’s front gate and hurried along the road back to the Striaton Gym, he had a number of things to worry about. For one, he was worried that he had just made a fool of himself by bidding the girls farewell so quickly. (He did.) For another, he was worried that Sumac would bite his head off for taking so long and for coming back so close to the dinner rush. (Sumac would.) For a third, he was worried that the things he had seen at the Dreamyard meant he and his cousins would have to get involved with the police, and he was worried because this was always the worst part of his job as a gym leader for reasons that had nothing whatsoever to do with the time he broke up with Officer Jenny’s daughter and proceeded to “relieve his frustration” on a mailbox or two. (Those were most definitely the reasons.)

And for a fourth, he was worried that the veteran trainer and the homeless-looking guy who had been waiting outside of Amanita’s gate were now following him.

(They were.)

Savory tried his hardest not to think about that last one. Instead, he tried to ground himself by shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks and keeping his eyes on the sidewalk. His fingers played with the last poké ball in his pocket as he tried to come up with a plan. Why did he give the Companion his pansear again?

Oh. Right. Because the pansear _liked_ him, and Savory had so many other ways of keeping a mugger at bay. Like the lillipup he was supposed to use on beginning trainers. Or the pocket knife that he had most definitely left in the office of Le Jardin Potager. Or the martial arts moves he absolutely, without-a-doubt did not learn from old Brycen movies.

Savory was not a very smart man, no. Sage was the smart one. Sumac was the dumb-but-you-forgave-him-because-he-was-pretty one. And Savory?

Well. Savory was the impulsive one.

“Sautée! Bite!”

He whipped around, snapping his lillipup’s ball into the air behind him. No sooner had the puppy burst from it than a massive set of claws smacked it out of the air and pinned it to the concrete. An emboar towered over the dog, leaning in with a grunt as Sautée squirmed and whined under its massive hand.

Beside this scene, the veteran smiled and patted one of the emboar’s toned arms.

“Now, now, Curly,” she said. “Don’t want to break the gym leader’s lillipup.”

The emboar snorted again, and tiny plumes of fire flashed from its nostrils. But nonetheless, following its trainer’s word, it pulled its arm up, easing its hand off the puppy’s back just enough to take pressure off the fauxkémon.

This did not comfort Savory in the slightest, and as his eyes flicked from the emboar to the veteran, he struggled to form another plan of escape. Rush her? No. The emboar had _two_ arms, and although Savory wasn’t the sharpest tool in Striaton Gym’s shed, he knew better than to pick a fight with 330 pounds of muscle, fire, and rage. Run the other way? But what about Sautée? A third option, then?

As if sensing his panic, the woman pushed one of her palms towards him.

“Relax, son,” she said. “My friend and I just want to talk.”

All of a sudden, Savory was aware of someone behind him. He cursed, mentally kicking himself for forgetting all about the woman’s human partner. On instinct, Savory shifted his feet and lowered himself into a fighting stance.

In response, the woman’s face fell, and her hand stopped mid-push. “I said _relax_. We’re not gonna hurt you. Not even Curly.” She patted her pig on the shoulder again, then snorted herself. “You know, though, it’s kinda funny. Your dad would’ve given his left arm to be punched in the face by Curly here. He was always a little sore that I fought your uncle instead. Or he was after I swept through the League.”

Savory shifted his weight again. His muscles relaxed a little, and his eyes darted from the woman to the emboar and back. A realization was slowly coming to him.

“You’re…” His voice trailed off before he could finish.

“That’s right,” she said. “And the man behind you … you might’ve heard of him from your dad too. But don’t worry. He’s a friend of mine now.” At this point, she lowered her chin, and her expression darkened. “Now. Question. What did you see at the Dreamyard?”

Savory inhaled deeply through his nose. His eyes wandered away from both the woman and the emboar in front of him as he mulled over the question. The truth was, he didn’t see much. The fog was far too thick. But there were voices and noises—strange ones that he wasn’t quite sure he could describe.

And in any case, why would he say a word to these people? There was a chance the woman in front of him was who she said she was, but anyone could string together some vague references to the original Striaton gym leaders, get an emboar fauxkémon, and pretend to be the champion. 

Sure, he knew what the champion looked like, but he had never actually met her in person. He wasn’t nearly lucky enough to represent the three gym leaders at League meetings and whatnot, and in any case, that wasn’t the point. The point was, everyone knew what the champion looked like. Anyone could make themselves up to look just like her. And anyone could walk up to a guy on the street for reasons that could very well be crazy to ask him about things he may or may not have seen. Why should he tell those people anything at all?

Because, he realized after a moment of thought, Savory believed her. He couldn’t explain why, but somehow, he just knew she really was the champion.

Savory was not a very smart man, no. But he knew he was in _deep_.

“Not much,” he said quietly. “Lots of pink. There was … I guess another woman in there? With a Companion? She attacked one of these girls, but I didn’t _see_ her.” He hesitated. “And there was this other voice. It was coming from _everywhere_ , and it was—”

“What did it say?” the man asked.

Savory jumped but quickly regained his composure. Clearing his throat, he straightened up. “I don’t know. Look, it didn’t make sense to me, okay? Something about … disappointing him, I guess? The voice, I mean. It was a guy. Older guy.”

The champion and the homeless man exchanged glances. Then, the woman clicked her tongue and recalled her emboar.

“We should tell Rosa,” the man said.

Sighing, the champion walked forward and rested an elbow on Savory’s shoulder.

“Sure,” she said. “But first, let’s escort this young man back to the Striaton Gym.”

Her partner raised his eyebrows. “Are you thinking of recruiting all three?”

“Recruiting?” Savory repeated, quirking an eyebrow at the champion.

She smiled and patted his back with the hand that was resting on his shoulder. “Well, that and I’ve heard you all got the best chocolate mousse in the region. If this is gonna be a long few days for me, I might as well start it off _right_.”


	12. Wellspring Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door proves her thesis, and we hear an old voice for the first time.

“So you accidentally caught a real audino?” Blair asked.

Door shrugged. Since departing from Striaton early that morning, she had led the way out of the city, marching along the lit, tiled path of Route 3. By her side was the audino in question, who had seemed all-too eager to leave the Dreamyard. At every noise and every new sight, the rabbit-like creature would hum and crane her neck and twist around to look at the grass, the trees, and the humans around her. Blair had called her adorable and even “squishy,” words which, in Door’s opinion, fit the pokémon and her abundance of pink and curls and puffy fur a little too well. For this reason, Door had decided to give her the most appropriate name she could think of at the time: a name that not only fit the pokémon’s apparent softness but also felt like one Door wouldn’t mind calling out in the heat of a battle.

Knives.

“Yep,” she said presently. “Not that I mind. Knives looks tough … even if she’s pink and all.”

“Uh … I guess,” Blair replied. “But I thought that audino were supposed to be gentle.”

Door slipped her hands behind her head and cast a smirk back at the other trainer. “I’m sure I can teach her how to be a vicious killer.”

Blair grinned right back and snorted. “Ha. Good luck. Anyway, it’s cool that you caught a pokémon at all.”

At that, Door’s smile fell, and she furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Blair crossed her arms. Her shoulders rose, tensing around her face as she frowned. “I’ve been in Striaton for years. There’re lots of pokémon that live around town, and not once have I ever come close to catching one myself.”

Door blinked and raised her eyebrows. “But when we met, you caught that patrat, right?”

“Correction!” Opal exclaimed. She trotted forward, one finger raised to the sky, until she fell into step beside Blair. “That patrat was _defeated_ , not caught. According to my sensors, the patrat was dispatched with utmost efficiency with a single Tackle!”

Blair cringed. She turned her head away from her friends as she bit her lip. At the same time, Door stopped and stared at Blair, forcing the rest of the group to halt in their tracks.

“You … you took it out?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” Blair mumbled. “Completely.”

Door groaned, faced Blair, and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t they teach you how to catch pokémon at that trainer’s school you went to?”

Blair fidgeted as she forced herself to speak. “Y-yeah. They … they do. It’s just that I … I … um.”

“You were never good at it, were you?”

She lowered her head. “No.”

With a heavy sigh, Door ran her fingers through her hair and looked out towards the sea of grass. This route, like the ones bordering Accumula and Nuvema, was maintained. Perfect. It looked like a sea of tall grass, but all of the grass was at uniform height. All of the trees were evenly spaced. The route cut through everything too cleanly, as if the grass simply stopped at a perfect line across the prairie to make way for the road. And as if that wasn’t enough, Door realized that the whole thing looked like a carbon copy of Routes 1 and 2. The only difference was that Route 3 was far more populated. There were several trainers out there, each creeping along the manicured fields or battling one another, but no one was on the road itself.

But beyond their welcomed absence on the road, none of the trainers interested Door. They wouldn’t be able to teach Blair how to catch a pokémon, after all. But something else caught her eye, something completely relevant to Blair’s predicament: movement in the grass. Every so often, waves would form, with grass shaking against the wind as something passed through it. Some trainers chased after the trails formed by these waves, but other trails were left to weave across the field and disappear. Door let her eyes linger on each trail as she contemplated her next actions. The presence of trainers here would make what Door had in mind a bit of a challenge, but she knew she had to do it. For a friend.

“Yo, so those dumb-sounding pokémon capture courses. How did they teach you to catch pokémon?” Door asked.

Blair visibly relaxed before answering. Her shoulders lowered, her hands laced together, and when she spoke, her voice was a little louder, a little firmer, a little more like the Blair Door had first met on Route 2.

“Kinda stupidly, like you said,” Blair said. “They explained how you need to weaken a pokémon and taught us how to use a poké ball, and then they had us practice on fauxkémon owned by the school.”

“But you never actually went after wild pokémon, did you?”

Blair scratched her arm nervously. “Well … no. Students aren’t technically allowed out on the fields without an escort and a Companion, and even then, they have to stick to the roads only. Not the fields. It’s too dangerous.” On the last two words, Blair mimed quotation marks around her head.

Door snorted this time and held up a hand, palm up. “There’s your problem. All talking, no hands-on learning. Really dumb way to figure things out, I think. Hey, Geist. Gimme a poké ball. I gotta teach Blair how it’s done.”

Seconds later, she felt Geist’s hand press into hers to place a poké ball in her palm. It took all her willpower not to shudder at the suddenness of it all. She couldn’t even hear the Companion approach, and the time between her request and his reaction was practically negligible. Yet his hand—the warmth, the softness of his skin, even the particular smoothness of his fingernails—felt too real. She had to take a moment to remind herself of what he was, and that was one moment too long for her tastes.

With a cough and a shudder, she yanked her hand away from Geist’s and curled her fingers around the poké ball at the same time. Then, inhaling deeply, Door started into the field.

“Door,” Geist said, “I’m detecting a—”

“I’m fine,” she snapped.

“Did you not want—”

“I said I’m fine.” She glanced over her shoulder, first to send a cold glare to Geist, then to offer a soft look to Blair. “Catching pokémon is the most basic thing a trainer can do. At least, until you start getting into the harder routes, anyway. But regardless of where you are, you should be able to do it without a Companion.”

Geist crossed his arms and gave Door a worried frown. “Well, yes, but a Companion’s assistance is—”

“Completely, 100% optional,” Door growled as she turned back to the field.

He sighed behind her. “Very well. Good luck, Door.”

“Right,” she said. “So step one is finding a suitable pokémon.”

Door didn’t expect step one to take long at all. Even with the route crawling with trainers, there were more spots of waving grass than there were humans. All she had to do was pick one, and conveniently enough for her, there was one directly ahead of her. She pressed her lips together and crouched, watching it dart back and forth mere feet from where she stood.

“Step two: battle it!” she announced. “Knives! Pound whatever’s making this grass wave!”

The fact that the rabbit bounded past Door without question came as a pleasant surprise to her. She didn’t even think that the creature was paying attention. Yet there she went, the fluffy audino, cooing eagerly as she dove into the rustling grass.

“Why’re you using Knives?” Blair asked. “Isn’t she too new to fight?”

“Ha! That’s the point,” Door replied, flashing a grin at Blair. “See, part of step two is doing everything you can to avoid making it faint. Sometimes, it’s better to go with a weaker pokémon than a stronger one because that way, you’re sure to avoid knocking it out accidentally.” She held up a finger. “In fact, I’m willing to bet that’s what happened with the patrat. Toto’s a fake pokémon, right? They’re stronger than real ones, and sometimes, they don’t even know their own strength. Sure, the patrat had to’ve been fake too, but—”

And then, a lillipup flew past Door and crashed onto the pathway right beside Blair. Both trainers jumped and screamed, with Blair leaning into Opal and away from the downed lillipup. Door took a few more seconds to let her heart rate stabilize, and then, she looked down to find Knives at her side, grinning up at her with a broad, almost stupid smile. The audino tilted her head and chirped, her lips bubbling open and shut in as cute a manner as she could muster. Upon seeing that smile, Door shifted her gaze back to the lillipup, just in time to see it rise shakily to its feet.

Geist, meanwhile, stood a short distance away from Opal and Blair. Up until this point, he had been watching patiently, but as soon as the trainers screamed, he reached up to massage the bridge of his nose with another sigh.

“Health is at 21%,” he intoned. “Door, I realize you would rather not take my advice, but perhaps now would be a good time to use that poké ball.”

“Uh … r-right,” she said.

Flicking her wrist, Door tossed the poké ball at the lillipup and watched it smack the puppy in the forehead and suck it inside with barely a struggle. Once the ball snapped shut, it fell onto the pathway and rocked back and forth for a few seconds. Door didn’t even have to hold her breath; she knew the moment the ball struck the lillipup that it was as good as hers. And sure enough, after those few seconds, her poké ball went still with a final ping, and Door was left to gape at the pokémon standing next to her.

“Jesus,” she muttered. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Knives giggled, drawing her paws to her mouth as she squinted her sky-blue eyes. Then, she reached out to tug at Door’s pant leg, leading her back to the path like a small child leading her parent through a toy store.

“I … did you know about this?” Door asked, her voice high-pitched as she threw a glare towards Geist.

In the time that it took for Door to reach the road again, Geist had moved to the poké ball and picked it up. His eyes were glowing faintly as he stared at its surface.

“Yes,” he said. “Knives is a young pokémon, and audino themselves don’t possess much in the way of offensive talents. However, it’s rather clear to me that your audino is eager to please.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows. “A-and?”

“And sometimes, when a pokémon is eager to please, they go to great lengths to make their masters happy. Including attack repeatedly without being ordered to do so.” Geist turned his hand, dangling the ball from his fingertips. “Lillipup. Female. Moderate experience level. Serious natured but prone to playful outbursts.”

His trainer took the ball from him and stared at it as if it was an alien artifact. A question was forming in her mind, specifically about how Geist could tell what the lillipup’s personality was, but she couldn’t find her voice. So in her silence, Geist turned away from her and folded his hands behind his back.

“As you can see, Miss Blair,” he said, “capturing pokémon requires a level of skill and attention, but Door is right in saying both of those traits are easily acquired with practice. Weaken a pokémon first to disable it, then throw a poké ball at it once you’ve determined whether or not it’s weak enough to be captured. Be sure not to go overboard on your attacks, else you’ll encounter the same problem you did when you tried to capture that patrat. When in doubt, rely on your Companion. We have the ability to calculate a pokémon’s health from a distance and advise you on the best time to attempt a capture. Understand?”

Blair nodded, her eyes wide and on Geist. “Y-yeah. I think so.”

Geist’s hand snaked into the pocket of his coat to draw out another poké ball. “Then would you like to give it a try? There was another lillipup not far from the one Door battled. Opal will be able to tell you where it is now.”

With a deep breath, Blair steadied herself and straightened her back. She balled her hands at her sides and lifted her chin to look deep into Geist’s face. Her hand quivered as she reached up, slowly, for the ball in the Companion’s palm.

And then, a scream rose from the field behind them and stopped her.

“ _Somebody stop them! They took my pokémon!_ ”

Blair and Opal whirled around as Geist and Door looked up, all in time to see two figures leap onto the road and dash away. Two very familiar figures.

“Belle!” Door shouted.

She shoved Geist out of the way and dashed forward, but before she could take more than a few steps beyond him, he reached out and snatched her arm. Pain shot up to her shoulder as she twisted around, her hand clawing at his.

“Geist! Let me go!” she screamed.

“Now hold on!” he snapped. “You can’t just run after two criminals, just like that!”

“Watch me!”

“Hold on!” Blair said.

She flicked her arm out, as if to bar Door’s progress with her own body. Door stopped, took a calming breath, and followed Blair’s glance to see what had caught her attention. A boy stumbled out of the tall grasses, crying and gasping for breath. He snapped his gaze towards the retreating backs of Belle and Starr, whimpered, and turned his head towards Door and her traveling party. His eyes shone with tears as he limped towards them.

“Please,” he cried. “Please! They took my patrat!”

It was Opal of all people who trotted forward. She reached out for the child and grabbed him by the arms, then held him up. Her eyes flashed as they trailed down the boy’s leg and stopped at his ankle.

“I’m detecting a sprain,” she said. “It’s pretty bad. You have no business running around, I’m afraid.”

He shook his head and looked up at her. “But I have to! Patrat’s all I’ve got! If they get away with Patrat…”

“Where’s your Companion?” Blair asked.

The boy sniffed and shook his head again. “They broke her. The girl has this really strong snivy, and she snuck up behind us—”

Door shoved Geist away from her and bolted down the road, heading quickly in the direction Belle and Starr ran. It didn’t take long for Geist to catch up to her, and he skidded to a halt directly in front of her. By the time Door realized he was in front of her, it was a second too late. She barrelled into him, and the moment she did, she shoved her hands into his chest and stumbled backwards for a few steps. He remained where he stood, calmly, with his feet planted on the road and his arms extended at his sides.

“Get out of the way!” Door shouted.

“I thought I told you we shouldn’t be rushing off like this!” Geist snapped.

“The longer we stand here talking, the more likely Belle and Starr are gonna get away!” She waved her arm wildly to the side. “I’m not playing around, Geist! Get out of the way and let me go after them!”

“We need a plan,” he growled. “This time, we don’t have the advantage of being covered by dream smoke, and we’ve just found out that Belle has no problem with using pokémon to attack people and Companions. If you run after them, who knows what they’ll do?”

“How’s this for a plan?” Door hissed, jabbing a finger at Geist’s face. “Go find that kid’s Companion and get her back online. You were Amanita’s assistant. You should have some tech knowledge or whatever under your belt. In the meantime, I’m going after Belle and Starr, whether you like it or not. I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

“Door—”

“Knives! Get him out of my way!”

Geist widened his eyes as he opened his mouth in protest, but before he could say a word, a blur of pink and cream shot at him and slammed into his chest. He fell onto his back with a bang, and Door dashed past him without even looking back. All she was aware of was her audino bounding beside her on the left and, a few moments later, a second presence joining her on the right. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blair catching up with her, and with that, she smirked.

Two human trainers. Multiple real pokémon. Two thieves to capture. This was going to be easy.

—

It didn’t surprise Door in the least that their chase would lead them off the roadway and beyond the manicured fields. The geography of Unova had barely changed since Hilda King’s day; everything was still there. It was just that most people stuck to the neatly trimmed fields and steel-and-glass pathways. But all it took to access the wild parts was to climb over a small fence and cross into even taller, denser grass—places where the fauxkémon grew obscenely strong and where the rougher sorts of characters went.

And Knives, of course, had no concept of fences. She had grown up within the boundary of one large wall, sure, but what did a short, wood-and-wire barrier even mean to her? So for that reason, she led the way, ears twitching as she guided Blair and Door right to that wild place, deep into the overgrown fields, and right to a forgotten cave.

Stopping at the mouth, Door peered in, then looked back at her audino.

“In here?” she asked.

The audino’s ears twitched once, and then she smiled and nodded with a soft coo. With a deep breath, Door turned back to the opening.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it, Blair?” she said. “Got any idea what this is?”

Blair took a step forward until she joined Door at the mouth. Peering down into the darkness, she said, “I dunno. But the only major cave system in the area is Wellspring Cave. That’s probably where we are, but…”

Door looked at her. “But?”

“But Wellspring Cave’s off-limits.”

“What do you mean ‘off-limits’?”

Blair turned her eyes to Door. “I mean we shouldn’t be here.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with climbing over that fence back there.” Door motioned to a vague point behind her. “Which, by the way, was a really crappy fence. Seriously, how’s that supposed to keep anyone out of this place?”

A nervous smile crossed Blair’s face. “I-I know. But I’m starting to have second thoughts.”

Door chuckled and laid a hand on Blair’s shoulder. “C’mon, Blair. Where’s that self-confident jerk I’d met back on Route 2?”

Blair crinkled her nose at that. “First of all, shut up. Second, you didn’t look that dangerous.” She turned her head towards the cave, and her smile fell. “Not compared to this, anyway.”

“I was seconds away from taking that the wrong way,” Door said.

Shaking her head, Blair said, “Sorry. It’s just … maybe Geist was right.” She looked at Door. “I mean, these are criminals, and that’s a dark cave. Who knows where they are, and who knows what’s in here? We could be ambushed by them or whatever’s living in the cave. I-I mean … they say strong pokémon are in there, you know.”

“Who says?” Door snorted. Then, rolling her eyes, she drew her hand away from her friend and stepped into the darkness. “Anyway, we can’t go back. There’s a patrat in trouble. And besides, I’ve faced Belle and Starr before. They’re no big deal. Just stay close and be ready to fight, and you’ll be fine.”

“But I’ve faced them too,” Blair replied quietly.

Door stopped. Her eyes widened as she thought for a few seconds about what Blair had just said. That was right; she _had_ faced Belle and Starr before then. Back in the Dreamyard. Back when they took out Blair’s team and her Companion.

Back when Door had Geist’s help to fight back.

“Look,” Door said, flashing an awkward smile at her partner, “no big deal. Like I said. Just stay close. We’ll double-team ‘em, okay?”

She extended a hand to Blair. For a long while, Blair merely stared at it, unmoving and uncertain. Then, slowly, she reached out and grabbed it. Door grinned and pulled her in, leading her into the cave.

Thus, they descended, down a rocky, dirt-covered path winding into the darkness. Knives passed them and trotted forward, and for a long time, all that Door and Blair could hear was the soft humming from the audino. Door squinted in the darkness, desperate to make out any semblance of shadows, but in the meager light still filtering in from the gaping cave entrance, she could see no sign of Belle or Starr. Blair drew close to her until Door could sense the girl’s body heat against her back. She could feel Blair trembling, feel Blair’s hand tighten around her wrist, and she was just about to tell Blair to calm herself when she ran into Knives’s back.

“Knives?” Door hissed. “Everything okay?”

The audino’s paw curled around her free hand, and in the dimness of the cave, she could make out Knives pointing straight ahead and slightly upwards.

“You know what sucks about these caves?” Belle announced. “You can’t see jack in them. So if, for example, two gullible sacks of crap waltzed in to get all kissy-faced with each other, you miss out on all the good parts!”

“Belle, we have a mission.”

“Oh, Starr. You’re such an absolute killjoy. Monkshood, go say hello!”

Door’s reaction was immediate. Without thinking twice, she plunged her hand into her pocket and threw the first ball she grasped ahead of her.

“Huntress, Bite!” she shouted.

“Huntress?” Blair asked.

Before Door could answer, the ball cracked open, and a brilliant, white light shot out of its heart and slammed into a dark shape several feet in front of her. As the light burst, Door could see a snivy— _the_ snivy—held within the jaws of a small lillipup. Then, the light faded completely, and the cave plunged into what seemed like a thicker darkness than it had before.

“Where’s your adorable Companion, kid?” Belle called out. “Not with him today? That’s a shame. He was a real help in the Dreamyard, wasn’t he? Bet he could see just as well in the dark as he could in dream smoke!”

“You talk too much!” Door snapped. “Huntress! Bite harder and drag that snivy back here!”

“Aww, girl, I was just pointing out that only one of us can see!” Belle replied. “Monkshood, Vine Whip!”

Somewhere in the darkness, Door could hear a snap, followed by a dog’s high-pitched whine. She flinched and squinted, desperately seeking out her pokémon.

“Huntress!” she called. “C’mon, girl! Bite it and get back here!”

“Ha! You’re hilarious! Monkshood, Vine Whip again!”

More snaps. More yelps. Door cringed again, gritting her teeth as she struggled to think of what to do. The answer, consequently, was more or less an accident.

“Huntress, throw it off!” Door called.

“Monkshood, Vine Whip again!”

Door sucked in a breath. She heard the snap, but this time, there was no yelp. There was only a muffled growl, and something inside Door’s chest tightened. Was this it? Was Huntress as fast as Door prayed she was? The growl was joined by soft scuffling, then a snivy’s scream, and finally, silence.

Punctuated with a splash and a curse from Belle.

“Monkshood, return!” she cried.

For a brief second, the darkness was lanced by the red beam of a poké ball. It was too faint for Door to make Belle out, but it was just enough to tell her exactly where the thief stood. Grinning, she tugged at Blair’s hand to pull her close.

“You saw that, right?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Blair said. “And I have a plan. Can you keep her busy?”

“No sweat.” Door released Blair’s hand and shoved at the girl’s shoulder. “But be careful.”

Without another word, Blair slipped away. Door could hear her retreating, and because of that, she prayed Starr couldn’t. But just to be sure, she had to keep Belle talking and battling.

“You got lucky,” Belle snapped. “But trust me, your luck ends here! Pride! Scratch its eyes out!”

Another burst of white light flooded the cave, and Door breathed a sigh of relief when she realized she couldn’t see Blair out the corner of her eye. The girl was hiding, which no doubt meant Starr couldn’t see her. So with that in mind, Door edged towards Knives, scanning darkening cave for any sign of her lillipup.

“Huntress, keep an ear out, and Tackle if that purrloin gets close!” she ordered. Then, after what felt like a suitable pause, she added, “Hey, Belle! Mind if I ask you something?”

“Oh? The baby knows my name? Did you hear that, Starr? I’m famous!”

Door snorted. “Hardly. My Companion used to work with you, genius. He told me who you were, but what he didn’t tell me is why you’re going around kidnapping pokémon.”

Huntress’s growl filled the cavern, followed shortly by a bark and the sounds of a scuffle. Belle’s purrloin hissed and yowled, and then both pokémon’s cries were cut off by a dull thump.

“Scratch again!” Belle ordered.

“Keep it up!” Door responded. “See, I understand why you tried to take that munna. Dream smoke’s got hundreds of different uses, especially as clean energy. Totally valuable. But why’d you take some kid’s patrat? Those’re literally one of the most common species in the region.”

“If you don’t get why, then you don’t get what Team Matrix is after!” Belle responded.

Door smirked. “Ah. So you _do_ work for Team Matrix.”

“Duh! And for your information, I might be a lot of things, but a hypocrite isn’t one of them,” Belle continued. “If we set the Companions free, we have to set the fauxkémon free. It’s just how things work!”

More growling. More scuffling. Door’s eyes darted to the source of the sound as she scrambled to come up with a way to keep the conversation going.

“So, what? Are you pretending to be good guys now?” she asked.

“We _are_ the good guys, dumbface!”

A rip, a whine, a thump. Two attacks landed. Door squinted again into the darkness, and slowly, her eyesight began to adjust. She could just barely make out the small lumps that had to have been Purrloin and Huntress. The taller of the two—the purrloin—darted away from the short, squat lump beside it but then fell into a slow creep as it circled its prey. At the same time, the shorter lump crouched and began to growl again.

But where in the world was Blair?

“Don’t give me that crap,” Door said. “You jumped Geist in that alley! You stole a snivy from him, and you tried to steal a tepig and my oshawott! How’s that supposed to be what a good guy does?”

Belle screeched with laughter. Looking straight ahead, Door could just make them out: the slender form of Belle rocking back and forth on her feet and the looming, taller form of Starr, staring straight back at her. Both stood on top of a rocky outcrop overlooking what Door realized was the finger of an underground lake. How she didn’t notice the latter up until now, she couldn’t say. In the dim light, the lake undulated, its waters lapping softly against rock.

And there, on its shore, just below the outcropping, was something else: Blair’s silhouette. She paused at the sound of Belle’s laughter, then crept up the side of the rock until she disappeared behind Starr.

“Look, kid, if you’re gonna get stuck on your own moralities and whatever, I’m not gonna explain a thing to you,” Belle said, her voice squeaking with the remnants of her laughing fit. “Y’know, it’s gonna get real annoying to refer to you by anything other than your name if I don’t know what your name is. What’s your name, kiddo, so I can blatantly ignore it later?”

“Wow, no. How about I don’t tell you?” Door asked.

“Rude.” Belle flicked a hand into the air. “Well, fine. I’ll find out eventually. You _did_ challenge the Striaton Gym, after all. All I have to do is ask Starr to look up the gym’s records and find out who the last challenger was.”

“What? How did you know I challenged the Striaton Gym?”

“Um, hi? We’re following you?” Belle put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “Why do you think Starr and I lured you out to some cave where no one would ever think to look for a lost, dumb trainer? Speaking of, Pride, finish off that mutt with Scratch! And Starr? Reach behind you, sweetie.”

Belle’s purrloin lunged for Huntress as Starr twisted around. Door’s eyes flicked back and forth frantically as she scrambled to decide which one to pay attention to, but in the next moment, that decision was made for her. Blair shot up, throwing her entire body into the Companion’s. Her feet slammed into his back as she hooked one of her arms over his face. Starr wrenched around, stumbling erratically on the outcropping as his partner shouted and scrambled away.

“Door! Your lillipup!” Blair cried.

The second Door snapped her eyes back to the battle, the purrloin latched itself onto Huntress, its paws snapping over her eyes. Huntress howled and scrambled, bucking wildly as the cat dug its claws into her face. At the sight of the struggle, Door sucked in a breath and forced herself to calm just enough to see what else was there on the battlefield—what else was mere steps from where Huntress stood.

It didn’t take long for a plan to hit her.

“Huntress, bash that purrloin into the ground with Tackle!” she called out. “Then whip your head up and forward!”

With a low growl, Huntress acted immediately. She threw herself forward, slamming her entire body onto the cat clinging to her head. Belle’s purrloin yowled, its paws flailing, but the lillipup pinned her down. Then, Huntress jerked, lifting the cat onto her head, and with a snap of her tiny frame, she flung the creature away from her … and directly into the lake. For a second time, one of Belle’s pokémon plunged into the waters with a splash and sank at once.

“Pride, return!” Belle snapped. “Starr, don’t let that twerp get away!”

Looking up, Door saw Blair leap off the outcropping and bolt towards her. Under one of Blair’s arms was a small bundle, and her other hand snaked to her waist. She plucked something from her belt, and twisting around, she snapped her arm forward.

“Wilbur! Ember!” she called out.

“Oh no you don’t!” Belle screamed. Both of her hands snapped to her own waist, and as quickly as she could, she threw a pair of balls forward. “Watcher! Stalker! Double Tackle!”

Two. Belle had somehow picked up a second patrat, and now she was planning on a two-on-one match. Door scoffed, thinking back to Belle’s insistence that she was one of the good guys, but she knew this wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Instead, she recalled her lillipup and motioned forward with her other hand.

“Knives! Quickly! Help Wilbur out with Pound!” she called.

In a flash, Blair’s tepig and a pair of patrat materialized onto the cave floor, and Knives scrambled forward to meet them. Rushing past the pig, Knives shrieked and raised a muscular paw. At the same time, Wilbur inhaled, rearing back on his hind legs before exhaling a jet of flame. Light danced off the cavern walls as one of the oncoming patrat was engulfed in fire. The second slammed face-first into Knives’s paw, only to be thrown into the flames.

In the time that it took for the battle to begin, Blair caught up with Door and grabbed her by the arm.

“Run!” she shouted. “Wilbur, keep attacking! Make sure they don’t follow us!”

Stumbling into her first steps, Door followed Blair but pivoted at the same time to face her audino. “You too, Knives! Keep it up with Pound!”

“Don’t you run away from us!” Belle shouted. “Watcher! Stalker! Tackle! Don’t let them get away!”

Neither Door nor Blair looked back. Both trainers only knew their pokémon were following them from the pounding of their running feet, the cries of Knives, and the heat and light of Wilbur’s fire. They didn’t look back until they emerged into the brilliant afternoon light, squinting against the pain. And then, they only afforded the battle behind them a cursory glance as they ran through the tall grass and back to and over the fence. Eventually, their pokémon’s attacks cut off, and Belle’s screaming grew fainter with distance.

And then, at last, all Door could hear were her footsteps, and the footsteps of Blair, Wilbur, and Knives. Nothing more.

—

They found Geist and Opal exactly where they left them: on the road, kneeling next to the boy. This time, they were joined by a young-looking female Companion who sat beside her trainer with a weary look on her face. Geist’s hands were at her back, threading wires over and under a gap in her internal machinery, and as Blair and Door walked towards them, Door realized what had once been in that space: a crushed battery pack that was now sitting on the road beside the Companion. When they finally approached, Geist shut the panel and pressed his hands into the Companion’s back.

“That should do it,” he said. “I’ve rerouted your power completely to your auxiliary battery. What’s your time on it?”

The kneeling Companion tilted her head. “Three hours and counting.”

“Good. That should be enough to get you back to Striaton City.” He glanced up at Door and Blair. “How did you two do?”

Blair stepped forward and pulled the bundle out from under her arm. Door noticed then that Blair had wrapped her jacket around it, and as she pulled it in front of her, it wriggled in her arms. Opening it, Blair revealed a battered patrat, which she carefully pulled free and cradled in one arm. The boy jumped to his feet, winced, and—against his sprained ankle—scrambled forward to reach for his pokémon.

“My patrat! Is he okay?!” he cried.

Opal was at his elbow immediately, steadying him as she helped him to her partner. “Careful! Remember, your leg is injured. You shouldn’t jump up so suddenly like that!”

The boy looked down at the road. “I’ll … I’ll be fine. But … is my patrat…?”

Smiling, Blair took the boy’s free arm, bent it, and transferred the patrat to his trainer.

“A little beat up, but he’ll be all right,” she said. “I don’t think they were trying to hurt him that much, but get him to a pokémon center so they can check him out, okay?”

With a sniff, the boy held his patrat close. “I-I don’t know how to thank you, but—”

“I do.”

The boy’s Companion rise shakily to her feet. Geist shot to his own, helping her just like Opal helped her partner. Soon, she wobbled forward with her hands extended towards Blair and Door. Both of her palms began to glow white, just as Geist’s did when he healed the Dreamyard munna, but this time, six small, pink spheres appeared in the beams of light—three for each hand. When the light faded, the orbs fell into her palms and rested there, and Door could see what they were: poké balls in their retracted states. Not just any, either. Actual heal balls, high-class poké balls that were hard to find in Nuvema.

“Please take these,” the Companion said. “It’s the least we could do to thank you for all your help.”

Blair shook her head. “No, it’s okay. It was really nothing. Just the right thing to do, you know?”

“We must insist,” the Companion responded. “You have done much more for us than we can describe. So please.”

With his signature soft smile, Geist collected three of the spheres. Opal followed suit, and the two of them slipped the balls into their pockets.

“Thank you,” Geist said. “Now hurry back to Striaton and be careful from here on out.” He turned his head slightly and gave the boy a stern glance—the kind a parent would give his child. “And remember. Stay within the safe zone.”

“I will,” the boy replied. “Thank you.”

With one last smile, the boy’s Companion scooped her partner into her arms and began hurrying away, back towards Striaton. Watching the Companion race away with the boy in her arms was almost a comical sight to Door, something that nearly ruined the otherwise nearly heartwarming moment. So at first, Door didn’t notice Blair slink up to her side and stand there with her arms wrapped around her frame. She didn’t notice, that is, until she shoved her hands into her pockets and bumped Blair’s arm, and as soon as she did, she gave Blair a side-glance.

“Hey,” she said. “Good battling. You’re a pretty tough girl, and man, Wilbur’s Ember was—”

“Door,” Blair interrupted, her voice quiet and low. “There’s something you need to know about that boy’s patrat.”

She blinked. “Oh? What’s that?”

Blair turned to face Door, and in that second, Door could see her uncomfortable expression. Eyebrows furrowed. Eyes worried. Frown deep and tight. Something was wrong.

And then, she said three words that made Door stop.

“He was breathing.”

—

_> File1.txt_  
_ > Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_ > Notes: From the personal audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. Transcriber unknown._

_Companion: noun, an advanced humanoid computer capable of socialization and service._

_Note to self: Terrible definition. Edit later._

_I wish I could just define things simply. It’s already getting to be more complicated than it should be, but to be honest, this whole thing’s a mess. I blame myself a little. I thought this would fix things—maybe make things a little easier. But to be honest, I’m not half as good at lying as Cassius or half as confident as Bebe or Brigette, and I’m certainly not half as clever as Bill. I don’t even know why I lied about … well. You know._

_Right. Right. Sorry. The point of this message._

_I don’t know why I lied. I just did. And now I need to figure out how to make more of these things when that’s completely impossible! How am I supposed to emulate—_

_Right. I can do this. It’s just a balance, right? Perfectly logical. With modern technology as it is, we’re already almost there. It’s just a matter of changing a few settings, finding the right configuration of hardware—simple!_

_Besides, I have Zero-One to help me. This won’t be so bad._

_Maybe?_


	13. Route 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door finds that life is full of surprises.

Door sat cross-legged on the edge of a trainer’s path with Geist standing calmly behind her. The two had barely spoken to each other since the boy and his Companion left for Striaton, but frankly, Door didn’t care. She wasn’t about to apologize to a _Companion_ , as Blair had suggested; after all, he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t really hurt, and frankly, the patrat seemed more important. So, Door focused her attention on training, and Geist remained quiet, especially now that Blair had taken Opal to battle trainers nearby. And for that, Door was thankful. It meant she could think.

Presently, she nibbled at a hardened granola bar and kept her eyes trained on her lillipup. Huntress, meanwhile, was locked in battle, dashing through the dark grass with her teeth bared. The blades whipped at the dog’s cheeks, but as far as Door could tell, Huntress didn’t care. All of her lillipup’s attention was locked on the purrloin in front of her. It led her along, throwing a glance back at her every so often as it wove this way and that, but no matter where it went, Huntress followed just a hair behind. The dog leaned forward, her scrawny legs reaching, her paws flexing, her claws digging into the earth to throw herself forward, but no matter what she did, the purrloin slipped out of her reach, time and again.

There were a thousand tactics Door could have used to stop the purrloin, and she knew this. She could, for example, order Huntress to use Growl. With the thickness of the grass, Growl could startle the cat just enough to make it stumble, and that single misstep would buy Huntress enough time to catch up. Or Door could have Huntress come in at an arc, cutting through the field via a path the purrloin would never be able to see from its vantage point. Or maybe Door could even switch out Huntress for Jack, whose Water Gun could strike the purrloin from a distance.

But she didn’t. She merely sat quietly on the path, front teeth biting into the rock-hard granola bar.

It was because of that patrat. Door had intended to spend her time training and battling, but her mind kept wandering back to the boy’s patrat. She was bothered by what Blair had said, even long after the two had decided it wouldn’t help to chase down the boy and ask him where he had gotten a real pokémon. And it distracted her long after Geist had suggested training, long after Blair had mentioned and explained the dark grass, long after they took up opposite sides of the field.

And all of this was because it bothered Door to know that there were so many possible answers to that lingering question.

First, there was the most obvious. The patrat wasn’t native. There were patrat nests all over the world, and even then, lots of breeders had raised patrat and other supposedly “Unovan” pokémon from tamed specimens because of their desirability after the Unovan population collapse. The boy could have gotten that patrat from any number of places.

Second, there was the possibility that Blair had simply mistaken exhaust from a faux patrat’s ventilation system for breathing.

Third, the patrat was real and Unova-bred. And this possibility even had sub options. The boy could have known Amanita, or Amanita might have given out pokémon to new trainers herself. Maybe he went to the Dreamyard and found a real pokémon produced by a munna. Maybe a pair of domesticated patrat got loose and bred.

She bit clean through the granola bar and chewed thoughtfully. Her eyes refocused on the battle in front of her, and in that moment, she took inventory of what her pokémon were doing. On the field, something jumped in front the wild purrloin and smashed a shoulder into its chest. The cat stumbled backwards and crashed down onto the ground, and seconds later, Huntress slammed her entire body on top of it. 

Noting that her pokémon were still handling the battle, Door frowned and let her mind wander back to the question at hand. There were problems with the three possible answers that had occurred to her.

First, the trainer looked too new to be foreign, and he wouldn’t make a big deal about the theft of his patrat if he was. He would simply go after Belle and Starr himself with whatever backup pokémon he had if he wasn’t new. Sure, maybe he was starting fresh, but what kind of trainer would go to a new region with _none_ of the pokémon he had in his previous journeys? And if this was his first journey, why go through a region like _Unova_ , with its high crime rates and swarms of fauxkémon, with a real pokémon he’s taken with him from another region? There were plenty of safer regions out there for a newbie, including wherever the kid might have been from. And the possibility that the patrat came from a breeder was just as preposterous. Those were highly prized pets; Door couldn’t imagine someone wanting to sic something like that on a fauxkémon.

Second, Blair was too smart to mistake a fauxkémon’s cooling emissions for actual breathing. Even small children knew the difference, and Blair went to a school that specialized in the study of pokémon. So if she said it was real, it had to be real. 

Third, Geist was just as surprised as they were that the patrat was real. Granted, he hadn’t said anything when Blair had told him, but to Door, that was just additional proof. If he knew and wanted to cover it up, he would have, just as he had when he led Door to believe he wasn’t a Companion. Besides, she couldn’t imagine why Amanita would give away her own research subjects to just anyone—the starters notwithstanding.

So as far as Door was concerned, the patrat was real. But if it was real, then where did it come from?

Letting her mind wander back to the present, Door noticed that Huntress’s barks grew muffled against her Bites. The trainer looked out across the field again, just in time to see Huntress tear chunks from the fauxkémon’s frame. For a second, Scout watched from his position behind her, standing exactly where he had emerged when he knocked the purrloin off its feet, but before he could even blink in his usual, slow way, another purrloin shot at his face and dragged its claws across his eyes.

At last, Door snapped out of her thoughts completely. Biting off another chunk of her granola bar, she shot to her feet and glared at the battle in front of her.

“Huntress! Scout needs help! Bite!” she shouted.

The second purrloin bent down and curled its lips back into a snarl, and its green eyes flashed at Scout with their own, internal light. Scout blinked back, steadily, slowly, almost uncomprehendingly, until the purrloin raised its claws for one more attack. With a smooth twist, he turned his head, and the purrloin hesitated, glancing from Scout to a Huntress diving straight for it. She slammed into its side and rolled off Scout into the tall grass, taking the purrloin with her. Scout picked himself up and tilted his head as the grass rustled violently in front of him. Barks and yowls rose from somewhere deeper in the field, but as the seconds ticked by, the yowls grew more and more mechanical until they stopped abruptly. Shortly afterwards, the barking stopped too.

Door relaxed. “Not bad, guys. Come back.”

Huntress burst from the grass with her tail wagging vigorously behind her. A grin crossed the dog’s face, and her tongue lolled out of her open jaws as she trotted forward. Scout scrambled to his feet and followed, and soon, the two pokémon stood before their trainer.

Part of Door lingered for just another second on the boy and his patrat. The myriad of questions Door had about the two still bothered her, but she knew those nagging, uneasy thoughts weren’t about to get answers. So with a deep breath, she pushed them out of her mind and smiled at her pokémon.

And then another thorn in her side spoke up.

“Not bad at all,” Geist agreed. “But if I may ask, why are you only battling wild pokémon? We’ve passed no fewer than twenty trainers so far, and—”

“And I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Door said with an exasperated huff. “But if you’re gonna be nosy about it, I don’t want to battle some rando who’s just getting advice from their Companion. Kids this early in the Unovan circuit always have to ask their Companions about every little thing, and battles just take forever. Believe me. I see them around Nuvema all the time.”

“Door,” Geist sighed, “you can’t fault a trainer for being _new_. Trainers who don’t have Companions are seasoned veterans from other regions. Not only would they already know everything our standard trainer’s manuals cover, but they’re also far, _far_ too powerful for you. There’s nothing wrong with battling someone—”

“ _Don’t you dare say ‘at your skill level.’_ ”

Geist’s shoulders sagged. “There is nothing wrong with battling a new trainer. It’s a great way to make connections and learn more about training and pokémon than you would have by yourself. Blair understands that.”

“Well, Blair’s not me,” Door snapped. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Because I’m your Companion.”

She looked at him. “And when did that happen?!”

Geist shrugged. “Did you really think Amanita simply downloaded data from me yesterday? She had a feeling you would agree to escorting me to Castelia, so she took the liberty of registering you as a secondary user.” He closed his eyes and lowered his head, as if he was just as irritated with the situation as she was. “Thus, until we reach Castelia City, it’s my duty to provide you with as much guidance as possible.”

Door fell silent for a long moment. She narrowed her eyes at Geist and weighed all possible responses to this revelation. Being stuck delivering her dead aunt’s robot butler was one thing; being forced to partner up with the thing, though? An entirely different story. It meant she was _connected_ to a Companion, that her reputation for having never touched a Companion in her life—helping her father to repair them notwithstanding—would forever be tarnished. And besides, why didn’t anyone ask her if she wanted a Companion? Why did Amanita just hoist one onto her without her consent?

Breathing deep, Door tried to swallow all of that frustration. No, if she reacted, that would just give Geist the satisfaction of seeing her snap. She knew, of course, that he technically couldn’t actually feel satisfaction—true emotions were beyond a Companion’s capability, after all—but she wasn’t especially in the mood to take Geist’s pre-programmed smugness.

So, with a soft glance towards her pokémon, she opted for ignoring him. “ _Anyway_ , I think we’re doing just fine. Right, guys? Huntress, you had, what, twenty victories in a row? And Scout’s got ten, plus Jack and Knives got in a few … in all, nice training session.” She shoved the last corner of the granola bar into her mouth, chewed it, and swallowed. As she shoved the wrapper into her pocket, she added, “Only downside is you beat everything I could’ve caught, but hey.”

Although Scout didn’t even seem to hear her, Huntress whimpered and took a step back at the note of criticism. In response to her lillipup’s shift, Door held up her hands.

“Whoa, wait!” she said. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing! I’m just saying it means I’ve gotta change my game plan. I mean, a handful of really strong pokémon’s just as good as an army, right? Like … what’s the point of catching a ton of pokémon if none of them can fight?” She stood and dusted off her pants. “So relax! You’re doing great!”

By that point in time, Huntress was practically vibrating.

“What?” Door asked. “I mean … I didn’t think I put it _that_ badly.”

As quickly as he could, Geist stepped forward and placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder. When she looked up, she noticed that his eyes were glowing bright blue. 

“Door,” he said, “I think—”

The brilliant, white light that burst from Huntress’s body silenced Geist. Door stumbled backwards, into his hands, as her pokémon hummed and twisted at her feet. She could see and hear the processes happening: the mechanical whirring, the elongating, the unfurling, the reshaping—all of the hallmarks of evolution, taking place in a matter of seconds. And when it was over, the light fizzled into a dazzle of sparkles, leaving behind not a lillipup but a herdier.

“Whoa,” Door breathed.

Shaking off the last of the light, Huntress craned her neck to examine her back. Her short, dark tail wagged, and her bushy whiskers quivered as she panted and barked. Door pushed off her Companion and knelt down, reaching out in wonder. Fauxkémon or not, evolution _was_ a marvel, a thing of beauty, and Door couldn’t deny this. Still, she stopped just short of touching Huntress to think. The dog sniffed at her hand and licked her fingers, but Door ignored this to reach into her pocket with her other hand.

Behind her, before she could grab her holo caster to check on what she was seeing, Geist cleared his throat. “Herdier,” he recited. “The loyal dog pokémon. It loyally follows its trainer’s orders. For ages, they have helped trainers raise pokémon.” He gave Door a sideways glance. “Notice the key word there. _Loyal._ Given your typical impulsive behavior, it would be a good idea to be careful with this one. Evolution shifts a pokémon’s programming. Now that Huntress is a herdier, she _will_ act on innate directives programmed for the herdier species first and foremost, then apply the personality core she’s established since activation. Do you understand?” After a beat, he lowered his shoulders, sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “‘Are you even listening to a word I say’ might be a better question.”

“Yeah, sure,” she mumbled. Then, drawing out Jack’s poké ball, she said, “Hey, Jack! Come on out and see this!”

With his own flash of white light, Jack emerged, barking and brandishing his scallop shell. The moment he landed on the road and realized there was no one to battle, however, he stopped, popped his shell onto his stomach, and leaned toward Huntress to sniff her. And then, despite her attempts to lean away from the oshawott, Jack reached out to grab Huntress’s whiskers and examine them. She began to emit a low growl before Door threw a hand between them and forced them to separate.

“Personal space, Jack!” she snapped. Then, drawing him close, she draped her arms around Jack but used one hand to point to Huntress. “So, remember that lillipup you were fighting alongside earlier? This is her now! Think you can do that?”

Jack stared up at her, blinked, and tilted his head with an inquisitive whine. In response, Door pumped both arms in the air.

“C’mon!” she said. “Really concentrate!”

With a confident smile and nod, Jack bore down, folding himself over as he brought his curling front paws together in front of his chest. Door watched her oshawott intently, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Behind her, Geist leaned down and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Uh, Door?” he said. “Evolution doesn’t quite work like that.”

A dazzling flash of light caught the trainer, the oshawott, and the Companion off-guard, and they looked to the side, just in time to see the last few seconds of Scout’s own evolution into a watchog. Even in its sleeker, more alert form, Scout blinked at them, tilting his now lithe head and licking his longer, shinier buck teeth.

“Or maybe it does for some pokémon,” Geist said as he turned back to Door, “but not to real ones.”

Scooping Jack into her arms, she whirled around, stood, and faced her Companion. “Okay. Fine. So how does evolution work?”

She wasn’t actually interested; she knew on a general, vague level how evolution worked. It was one of the training basics, something everyone knew happened to some pokémon at certain points of their lives. But she had a feeling that asking Geist would get that smug look off his face, so she did.

“Well, it’s complicated,” Geist replied. Sure enough, his infuriatingly sympathetic grin faded, and he motioned to Huntress. “Most pokémon evolve the way Huntress did: automatically after gaining enough battling experience to do so. Think of it like hitting puberty, only instantaneous and directly tied to your actions. The principle is the same: you change based on the amount of time you’ve spent living. Only … I suppose for humans, it’s more of a metaphorical concept, but—”

“Bored,” Door drawled as she narrowed her eyes at Geist.

He waved a hand in the air. “Right. Get on with it. Now, there are exceptions to the general rule. As I’ve said, most pokémon that can evolve do so the way Huntress does, and I’m afraid to say that the oshawott species is in this category. Therefore, Jack will need to gain more exposure to battling in order to trigger his own evolution. However, other pokémon, such as the eevee species, the kadabra species, and more have their own specific requirements: evolution stones, evolution items, and heightened bond with a trainer, to name a few. Why, in the region of Kalos, there’s a species of squid-like pokémon called inkay that requires you to—”

“ _Bored,_ ” Door sighed in exasperation. She tilted her chin up, a position mimicked by Jack. “So when’s Jack due to evolve, then?”

Geist heaved a sigh of his own and examined the oshawott. “Mm. Well, it looks like it should be any—”

“Door? Hey! Oh wow!”

At the sound of Blair’s voice, Geist stood straight, and Door twisted around to see Blair running towards them with Opal trailing behind her. Blair came to a skidding halt right behind Door, where she planted her hands on her knees and bent down to look at Huntress and Scout, while Opal came to a stop beside Blair and clasped her hands under her chin.

“Wow, is this Huntress and Scout?” Blair breathed.

She reached out to pet Huntress, and the dog responded with a yip, a wag of her tail, and an excited leap in the air to meet Blair’s palm. Bringing her hand down, Blair knelt on the road and began working her fingers through Huntress’s rough coat.

“She’s amazing!” Blair said. “Wish Toto would evolve already. Or Wilbur.”

“Aww, I’m sure they will,” Door replied. “These two just did, and you saw how much battling they got in. If you’ve been fighting as many pokémon as I have, Toto and Wilbur can’t be that far away from evolving. And incidentally, speaking of, you were right about training in dark grass.” 

Blair flashed her a confident smile. “See? Trainers’ School teaches you something now and then.”

“Ha. Remind me to never doubt you,” Door said.

“Yeah.” Blair’s hands began to slow. “Pretty soon, you’ll be able to take on Nacrene Gym.”

“So will you.”

“Sure, but…” 

Blair’s voice trailed off, and Door set her jaw at the abrupt silence. She had always thought that the concept of a sinking feeling was cliché, but that was exactly what she felt right then: a cold, tightening, painful feeling, like her heart was slowly drifting into her stomach.

“Uh, so … how was battling against all those trainers?” Door asked.

“Great!” Blair replied. “I-I’ve been learning a lot from them. It’s a great way to pick up tips. You should try it sometime.”

Door knew she meant it, but there was something about her voice—a distant twang to it that only deepened her feeling of dread. Inhaling through her nose, Door squatted next to Blair and nudged her with an elbow.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Blair shrugged. “Well, um…”

“Yeah?”

She frowned. “Um. I lost a few battles too.”

“How many?” Door asked. She tried her best to make her voice sound soft yet comforting—strong yet not forceful.

But even then, Blair cringed, and her own voice grew quiet. “A-about half of them.”

“Oh.” Door smiled broadly and gave Blair’s shoulder a firm nudge. “Well, that’s not bad! Better than all of them!”

“I-I know. But I was also watching you battle for a bit too. Your pokémon are so strong,” Blair replied.

“Hey, if you’re comparing yourself to me—”

Blair cut her off with a brisk shake of her head. “N-no! It’s not that! I, um.” She took a deep breath and said, “I’m going back to Striaton City to get the Trio Badge.”

At that, Door’s heart sprang back into place, and the cold sensation left her, as if she was abruptly filled with warm air. She even breathed an audible sigh of relief. Here, she thought Blair was about to quit training or descend into verbal self-flagellation or something. But deciding to go back and earn a badge? That was nothing in comparison.

“Oh,” she said. “Here I thought you were gonna say something worse. You shouldn’t be phrasing stuff so ominously like that.”

“Well, actually…” Blair’s hands stopped altogether. “Door, this is the bad news: I don’t want you to come with me.”

And just as quickly as her relief came, Door descended back into a mild panic. She felt her blood drain, and she blinked and swallowed hard.

“W-what?” she asked. “Why? I mean, with how strong you’re getting, going up against the Striaton Gym should be a breeze.”

“Yeah, but it’ll just hold you back,” Blair said. “And think about every gym after that. If we travel together, we’d have to wait for each other to fight the gym leader. And the gym leader would need to recover between the both of us too, so we’d have to wait longer before leaving every city. And … that’s not all, either.”

Door’s shoulders slumped. “What else is there?”

“It’s that boy’s patrat,” Blair said. “I was thinking about it and how it was breathing. Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Yeah, sure, but it could’ve been a lot of things. It could’ve just been some dumb kid sending a bred patrat out to battle fake pokémon for all we know.”

Blair frowned. “I guess. But I don’t know. Somehow, I don’t think that was the case. And even if it was … what that girl said’s been bothering me.”

“What, Belle?” Door snorted. “She’s crazy. Who even knows what she was talking about?”

“She said she was following you.”

“And what? You’re afraid of being jumped by her?”

“No.” Blair rose to her feet. “I’m afraid something really weird’s going on, and I want to be ready for it. You get what I mean?”

At first, Door stared into Blair’s eyes. Then, after a moment of thought, she shifted uncomfortably on her feet and tore her gaze away. “Y-yeah. I get what you mean. But … that wouldn’t matter, right? If we traveled together, then we can both prepare ourselves for whatever Belle’s doing at the same time, and we’d have fun traveling together. I mean, I’m supposed to be helping you out and everything, right?”

“And you are.” Blair reached out to put a hand on Door’s shoulder. “Door, you’re a really strong trainer compared to me. I mean, you’ve gotten two of your pokémon to evolve while I haven’t even gotten one. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hold you back and constantly force myself to catch up to you just so I can earn badges at the same rate you would. But if I train at my own pace, maybe I’ll get as strong as you are, and maybe I can be ready to fight in my own way. Trust me. It’ll be better if we went our separate ways from here on out. I’ll catch up with you eventually, and when that happens, let’s battle. I’ll show you how strong I’ve gotten.”

As soon as those last words left her mouth, Door snorted and rubbed her nose. “Spoken like a true rival.”

Blair smirked. “You’re not the only one who thought the old days were really cool.”

Door chuckled, then bucked her head towards the road. “So. You heading back to Striaton?”

“Yeah. Toto and Wilbur might not have evolved yet, but I know they’ll be able to kick Sumac’s butt anyway.”

At that, Door raised her eyebrows. “You already know who you’re fighting?”

“Of course I do,” Blair said with a laugh. “Sumac likes to make it this huge secret, but the other two think he’s a prat. In Striaton City, it’s pretty much common knowledge.”

Door stared at her for a few beats before replying, “Kick his a[SIZE=2]s[/SIZE]s.”

Blair’s smirk broadened as she took several steps to the north, away from Door, Geist, and the pokémon. With a final half-turn, she fired a finger-gun at Door and gave her a wink.

“You got it,” she said.

Then, she started walking away. Opal trotted behind her, raising an arm to wave at Door and her Companion.

“Bye now!” Opal called.

And with that, the pair left, walking on until they disappeared around a bend yards ahead. Long afterwards, Door could still feel a smirk playing across her own face. Without letting her expression falter, she pushed Jack onto her shoulder and recalled Huntress and Scout.

“Those two are something else,” she muttered. Then, more to Jack than to Geist, she added, “Anyway, you ready?”

“When you are,” Geist responded. “Nacrene City isn’t that far ahead. If we follow this path, we should get there by sunset, and the nearest pokémon center is six city blocks from the city’s entrance.”

Door, as always, wasn’t listening. By the time Geist was done speaking, she was already marching ahead. Thoughts and fantasies of herself as a real trainer in the old days filled her mind.

That was because things were different now.

She had a _rival_.

—

_> Galatea7.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_(Cassius’s Note: Original voice file damaged by exposure to LFA. Spoken date and time lost; file date marked two years, three months prior to File One, placing this as the earliest surviving recording of LH’s notes on Project Galatea.)_

_LANETTE: —14:53, follow-up on Project Galatea, recording 7, dated [REDACTED]. After several attempts at forming a lightweight but highly durable endoskeleton, it was determined that the titanium alloy sample sent in by a certain contact at Devon Corp would be perfect for our needs. I haven’t yet settled on a suitable compound for synthetic skin, but my contact assures me his industrial synthetics division has a thing or few in mind. I trust them. They did the AM Suit, after all._

_On a personal note, keeping Project Galatea secret has been quite a challenge, given recent events. He’s already started to ask questions, and I don’t know how long I can dodge them. Just in case, I’ve moved my notes to a closed, encrypted server for maximum security. I only hope he doesn’t get creative. I don’t think he can access something like that, but then again, he’s done stranger things._

_I just need six more months, and then I’ll be able to tell him everything. Just six more months._

_[end recording]_


	14. Nacrene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door meets her idol, but of course, she doesn't achieve a great first impression.

As a contrast to Striaton and Nuvema, Nacrene was considered by native Unovans to be the beginning of civilization. It always had been one of the buffers between Castelia and the rest of the world with its rickety, old warehouses-turned-art-spaces—the ones that survived despite how decrepit they were even fifty years ago. Really, the only difference between then and now was that there were somehow more of those warehouses. Despite the fact that Nacrene City had not seen an actual factory in over a century—beyond the mass-produced hipster phenomenon in the 2010s, anyway—somehow, the little burg in its tiny crook beside Pinwheel Forest and South River sprouted an entire labyrinth of dirty, old brick buildings converted into loft spaces for tortured artists trying to find themselves.

But that part of Nacrene was off limits to the average trainer. Every Companion, Geist included, knew this, but even without a Companion, one could easily tell that the warehouses and ancient hipster relics were off-limits to the average trainer. The glassy pathway that was Route 3 fed directly into a guard’s outpost, which in turn fed directly into the High Line Pathway, and the High Line Pathway was exactly what it sounded like: a pathway built above the city, winding across its expanse. Its main features: friendly lighting, nicely maintained plants, three-foot walls leading into four-story drops, and exits only at key trainer-friendly locations and tourist spots. During business hours.

This was not, in other words, a place one would expect Door to like. Not with its contemporary grunge or its neon lights advertising every fake thing in existence. Yet as Geist led her into the city, her eyes turned down to its sprawling expanse, and she couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of awe towards every little detail she could see from her lofty vantage point. As her eyes flicked from detail to detail, she stroked Jack absently as he purred on his shoulder, and between the vibration of his tiny body and the dim, multicolored lights all around her, Door felt … almost at _peace_.

“You know,” Geist said, leaning towards her, “this isn’t the original main road. A trainer had entered the city during the heyday of the old Unova League, they would have done so six blocks to the south and at ground level. Traffic was rerouted to the north about two decades ago, following the completion of the High Line Pathway.”

Door nodded, only half paying attention to what her Companion was saying. “I know.”

“Ah. Good.” Geist folded his hands behind his back. “I just wanted to let you know that this experience isn’t quite as true to the champion’s as you might like.”

“I know.”

He shot her a look. “You _are_ listening to me, yes? Not just saying you know while failing to pay attention to a word I’ve been saying?”

“Don’t be stupid, Geist. Of course I’m listening to you. It’s just ... weird.”

“Weird?”

Door shrugged and tore her eyes away from a storefront. “I dunno. I always thought Nacrene was the bottom edge of the crowded parts of Unova.”

“It is,” Geist replied slowly. “Turn here for the pokémon center, by the way.”

Without even a nod of acknowledgment, Door turned and began walking down a thin pathway arcing away from the thick, main trunk of the High Line. She could see the pokémon center mere blocks from her.

“Okay, so,” she said slowly, “where’s all the crime?”

Geist stopped. He gave her an awkward stare, as if to weigh whether or not he should answer her question. Then, he extended a hand across his chest and pointed to the wall, silently pressing her to look over it.

She did so. Leaning against the wall, she stood on tip-toe with one hand latched firmly on the scruff of Jack’s neck as the two of them peered down at the streets below. Beneath the ambling pathway, trash collected between buildings and against the High Line’s supports. People huddled in the darkness, in the shadows, sometimes low to the ground with their hands on a raggedy pokémon of one type or another. Younger, scrappier men ambled in the openness of the streets, shouting and occasionally shoving one another while herdier barked and howled at their heels. Women were less common sights out there, but when Door could spot them, they were almost always either walking quickly and with purpose along the sidewalks or drunkenly with male company in the shadows of the High Line. One couple spilled into Door’s view, her hands reaching down to his pants, and Door—knowing at once what that meant—pulled herself back up, pushed away from the wall, and walked away.

“Up until Castelia, think of it as easy mode,” Geist said as he fell into step behind her. “Nuvema and Striaton are safe compared to the rest of the region, and Nacrene herds you to wherever you need to be. But once you get to Castelia, it’s very easy to end up in seedier areas like what you see down there. That’s why a Companion is so essential.”

Door jammed her hands into her pockets. “Or. You know. Common sense.”

“You’ll be surprised to know how rare that actually is.”

Door cast Geist a withering look. She wasn’t about to dignify him with a response; she knew what he was doing. He was luring her into responding, just so he could counter it with some other witty comeback. It was so obvious to her. Companions had certain personality types, and if any human could detect a pattern in the way they behaved, everything they did became obvious—mere chains of actions dictated by that single fundamental personality type.

Geist, Door decided, was a smartass type. A crossroads between the comedic and intelligent personality cores, in a combination that came off as obnoxious to her but was probably hilarious to her great aunt. Door wasn’t about to fall into that. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of a response.

And soon, she had an excuse. As she and Geist approached the pokémon center, its automatic doors whirred open, and out walked the two people Door had least expected. She froze and felt her heart drop into her stomach, and all of a sudden, any banter she might have had with Geist was instantly forgotten.

The first figure she saw was the man from Accumula—the green-haired, homeless one she had battled. He looked just as weary, just as lost in thought as he had in the town square a few days ago, and when he noticed her, he glided to a stop like a ghost.

Next to him, meanwhile, was the champion of Unova, a woman Door had only watched on television and heard about through gossip at school. This was a woman Door had looked up to since she was young, a woman whose entire journey was the epitome of all the things Door thought a trainer’s career _should_ be. This woman both saved and conquered Unova without a Companion, with real pokémon, with experiences the current Unova League could only _dream_ of replicating. This woman was the very definition of _authentic_.

And her name was Hilda King.

Hilda was taller than Door had assumed she was—and a lot leaner in person too. But everything else about her was spot-on: the creases in her face; the gray streaks in her otherwise chestnut hair; the intensity in her deep, blue eyes; and even the exact shade of her blue trench coat and the fraying of her pink scarf. It was all there, in every glorious detail of the veteran trainer. Hilda stood straight, following her friend’s gaze until her eyes fell onto Door. And then, she smiled.

Smiled.

At Door.

Door was never washing her eyes again.

“Well, hello there!” Hilda said, her voice low and booming. “Seems my friend’s taken an interest in you. Sorry if he startled you. It’s his first time back in Unova, and he’s a bit of a tourist.”

Door shook her head, her mouth hanging open in awestruck silence.

“Hilda,” the man said, “this is the trainer I told you about. The one with the oshawott.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Is that so?” Turning back to Door, she stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you! This is N. I’d tell you what that stands for, but he really does prefer N, and frankly, I can’t blame him. Judging by the way you’re staring at me, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you know who I am, but what’s your name, kid?”

Door squeaked. Somewhere in the back of her throat, her voice was stuck, and somewhere in the back of her head, she was already kicking herself for looking like a complete tool in front of royalty.

“This is Door Hornbeam of Nuvema City,” Geist replied, motioning towards her. “I’d tell you what _Door_ stands for, but I’m afraid my friend would kill me. I am her Companion, Geist, and this is Jack, the oshawott your friend was referring to.” As Jack saluted the champion, Geist reached out to shake Hilda’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss King.”

Hilda quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got a talkative one on your hands. Don’t see too many of those in the Calliope line, but I guess whatever works for you, girl.” Then, withdrawing her hand from Geist’s, she reached out to pet Jack. “In any case, ‘Hilda’ is just fine. And if I may say so, you’ve got just the cutest little oshawott! Reminds me of Cheren’s starter, actually.”

Door stared at Hilda and decided she was not going to wash Jack either. Noticing her silence, Hilda laughed and drew herself away. Her hand dipped into her pocket, and with it, she drew out four objects. Holding up her palm, she presented them to Door. Three of the objects were tiny, blue gummy candies in the shapes of a bulb-like berry, and the fourth was a raindrop-shaped piece of glass on a short, black rope. Within the glass pendant, water sloshed, glittering in the lights of the street lamps and the pokémon center.

“Here,” Hilda said. “Take this. You’ll need it more than I do. You’ve got three chesto berries and one mystic water here. It should go without saying that your oshawott should be wearing the mystic water; it’ll boost its water magic, if you catch my drift.”

For a long while, Door stared at the objects. Was the champion of Unova actually giving her a present? The question echoed in Door’s mind as she struggled to force her body to move. Eventually, it was Geist who had to shift, accepting the berries with one hand and the mystic water with the other. Pocketing the berries, he turned to help Jack put the necklace on.

“We appreciate it, believe me,” he said. “You must forgive my partner. She’s not normally this silent, but it seems she’s in the presence of someone she greatly respects. So, in other words, she’s a bit starstruck at the moment.”

Door could have killed Geist if she wasn’t too busy still processing the fact that Hilda King had given her a power-up item for her oshawott. A power-up item that one of _her_ pokémon must have worn at one point.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Hilda said. “I’m not that much of a role model, though, and you certainly don’t have to be so intimidated by me. My friends are much, _much_ better choices for people to respect than I am. Bianca, for example.”

“Ah, yes,” Geist said. “Professor Ironwood. Door works for her, actually, as her assistant’s assistant.”

Some part of Door _really_ wanted to kill Geist. If only the rest of her would move, anyway.

“Really? Ha! Small world,” Hilda said. “Anyway, I’m not offended at all by strong, quiet types. I’ve got another friend like that, actually. Rosa Alvarado. She tends to wander around now, but maybe someday, you’ll run into her.” Hilda hesitated for a beat. “Or, actually, come to think of it, it’s more like I’ve got _two_ friends who’re the strong, quiet type, if you count N.”

She winked at her partner, but he didn’t seem to notice the ribbing. Instead, his eyes were locked onto Door and Door alone. As soon as Hilda was done speaking, N took a step forward and looked down at Door.

“The Dreamyard,” he said.

This snapped Door out of her daze. Shaking her head, she blinked at N.

“W-what?” she asked.

“The Dreamyard,” he repeated. “Team Matrix. They were in the Dreamyard, weren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Door responded softly. “They were. How—”

“Did they attempt to capture a munna?”

Door nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“And did a musharna drive them away with its illusions?”

“Yeah.” Door gave N a strange look. “How’d you know?”

Throughout N’s questions, Hilda had gotten quiet. Her smile had faded, and her eyes had darkened. Now, she stared at Door sternly, and upon hearing the girl’s final answer, Hilda transferred her gaze to N.

“N, it’s okay,” she said. “Reshiram and Zekrom, they’re—”

He whirled around and stalked away for several steps until there was enough distance between him and Door to create a battlefield.

“Battle me,” he said. “I need to see how much you’ve grown since Accumula City.”

“Whoa, wait,” Door said. “N-now? In … in front of…?”

Hilda ignored her question in favor of moving towards N and reaching for his shoulder. As her hand rested on it, she leaned in. “N. Are you sure about this?”

He turned his head away from her and frowned. “We battled in Nacrene City too. Do you remember?”

Hilda stared at him for a beat, and then, slowly, her smile returned. Pulling away from him, she took a few more steps back and reached up to clasp her hands behind her head.

“Make me proud, kid!” she called to Door. “I want to see some energy out of you and your pokémon!”

Door smiled hesitantly and reached into her pocket. If Hilda King was asking for a show, she couldn’t turn her down. But how would she go about battling N without embarrassing herself? Briefly, she thought about using Jack, but she wanted to save him for a grand finale. It didn’t seem right to open with him, especially when she had one pokémon who was far better equipped to wipe the floor with whatever N had to offer.

“Scout! You’re up first!” she shouted.

With a burst of light, Scout took the field. He landed on his feet and stood tall, seemingly not at all bothered by the fact that he lacked an opponent. Clicking his teeth, he tilted his head and stared across the field. N couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of him.

“False pokémon,” he said. “They’re so quiet. So incomprehensible to me. When they speak, I can only hear buzzing.” He plucked a ball from his belt. “Pidove, show her!”

He tossed the ball in the air, and with a familiar, white light, a blur took to the sky, looped around, and swooped down. The pidove screeched and flicked the remaining light off its wings before diving at Scout. Far below, Scout blinked lazily, tilted his head, and stumbled out of the way mere seconds before one of the pidove’s wings would have clipped him in the face. Immediately after zooming past its target, the bird shot back into the air again and circled above the watchog.

“Door, be careful!” Geist said. “As a terrestrial pokémon, watchog can’t learn the sorts of distance attacks that can take down a flying-type unless you teach them via technical or hidden machines. In other words, there’s no way Scout will be able to reach Pidove. You have other pokémon that _can_ use distance attacks, however. Jack’s Water Gun—”

“Okay, thank you,” Door replied impatiently. “Scout will be fine. Scout! Show him with Crunch!”

“You should listen to your Companion,” N responded. “Pidove, Gust!”

The bird made no effort to swoop down at Scout again. Instead, it whirled around in the air until it faced the watchog, and once it did, it snapped its wings together. A blast of wind shot from its tiny body and swirled around Scout, picking the watchog up and sending him flying back into the road. He barked once when he struck the pavement, but then, slowly, he rose back to his feet and blinked at the bird. Door gritted her teeth when she realized Scout would never get a chance to use Crunch at that rate. She had to change her strategy, and she had to do it quickly.

“Again, Pidove!” N shouted.

For a second time, the bird snapped its wings together, sending another blast of wind down onto Scout. And for a second time, the meerkat was swept off his feet and slammed into the pavement, only to get back up and blink at the bird. This time, however, his movements were jerking and shaky, and it was clear to Door that one more Gust could break her pokémon.

Her eyes trailed over the battlefield. There had to be some way to lure Pidove into diving down. There had to be something she could do.

And then, she saw the wall along the edge of the High Line, and an idea quickly formed in her head.

“Once more, Pidove!” N called.

“Scout, brace yourself against the wall!” Door shouted as she threw her arm forward.

At once, Scout dashed from his spot to the wall. Above him, N’s pidove clapped its wings together to shoot another rush of wind at Scout, but the watchog ducked, tucking himself under the lip of the wall and bracing himself against the concrete and steel. This time, the wind slammed into him, but he didn’t budge. The wall itself kept him in place. Upon seeing this, the bird fluttered overhead, swerving in frustrated loops as it chirped wildly. The corners of N’s mouth tugged downwards as he gazed at his pokémon.

“It seems we have no choice, my friend,” he sighed. “Quick Attack!”

Pidove smoothed out its flight path at the sound of N’s order. It arced up, sailing in a graceful curve high into the air before angling itself towards Scout. Knowing exactly what was about to happen, Door grinned.

“Brace yourself, Scout!” she called. “You know what to do!”

The bird shot itself at Scout. Although Door had seen Quick Attack executed in televised matches, it was something entirely different to watch it happening in real life. Pidove was a gray blur, just barely visible in the lights of the pokémon center. One second, it was hovering above N’s head, and in the next, it was low to the ground, mere inches from Scout. Her heart thundered with uncertainty in that split second. How would Scout be able to catch something so quickly? Her teeth clenched in response to that thought, and at the very last moment, she flinched out of fear.

And then, there was a screech. Forcing herself to look at the battle, she was shocked to find Scout standing calmly in front of the wall. Except … he wasn’t quite standing. His lower body was stiff and solid, but his shoulders and neck had twisted down to clamp his teeth onto the pidove’s body. The bird thrashed in his jaws, screaming and squealing as blood spurted from its back and wing, but throughout his attack, Scout remained placid. He straightened. He blinked. He shook his head vigorously once. But he didn’t react to catching the pidove, and he certainly didn’t release it.

N snapped his arm up, aiming his poké ball at the pidove.

“Pidove, return!” he called.

And so it did, in a flash of red. The moment the pidove flowed out of Scout’s mouth, his jaws snapped shut, and he blinked once again. His fangs were stained with the pidove’s blood, and realizing this, Door hesitated, reached up to touch Jack, and let her face twist in open disgust. Perhaps using Scout was a bad idea after all, but something kept her from switching him out. And that something was Hilda King’s voice.

“Not bad, kid,” she said. “Using your environment to your advantage shows you’re no beginner. Just control your watchog’s power a little better, okay? You’re not supposed to draw blood in a battle!”

Door’s heart leapt at Hilda’s advice, and she couldn’t help but grin. Hilda didn’t think she was a beginner! How could she argue against a compliment like that? So with a deep breath, she let her hand drop off Jack’s back. She wouldn’t switch. Not now. Not when she was proving herself. All she needed to do was show Hilda she could control Scout a little better.

“R-right,” she said. “Okay! I’m ready for the next one if you’ve got one!”

N turned his eyes to Door as he pulled out a second poké ball. “Hm. So you’ll stay with your watchog. Artificial pokémon … it’s true that they possess an incredible amount of power, and your watchog is indeed fascinating. But its voice…” He huffed and shook his head. “Tympole! Begin with Supersonic!”

The ball in his hand cracked open, releasing yet another flash of white light. This time, it struck the pavement and resolved quickly into a black and ivory ball: a tympole, blinking in the glare of the lights overhead. The second it appeared, the tympole opened its mouth and screamed. Ripples of air shot from its maw and washed over Scout, and to Door’s surprise, the watchog flinched. His face twisted in pain, and his paws gripped the wall behind him until the noise from the tympole finally died down.

And then, Door could hear Scout’s shrieks. High-pitched and agonized, like metal on metal. Scout twisted off the wall and smashed his head into the pavement as his paws scrambled across his head in a desperate attempt to grab at his ears.

“Scout!” Door cried. “Scout, snap out of it!”

“Door, this is confusion,” Geist said. “There are only four possible ways to cure it. I don’t have the first on hand, you don’t have a pokémon capable of the second, and the third’s too risky. You need to use the fourth. Switch him out for another pokémon.”

“I know what confusion is, and I don’t need to switch him out!” Door snapped. “Scout, you can do this! Use Crunch!”

Unfortunately for her, Scout didn’t seem to hear her. He moved, but it wasn’t to attack tympole. Instead, he slammed his head against the wall of the High Line over and over and over again.

“Scout!” Door shouted.

“I’m sorry to hurt him,” N sighed, “but it must be done. Tympole, Round!”

The tympole opened its mouth again to release another scream. This time, however, the air that rippled from its open jaws formed pale, green circles, pulsating and electric as they cut through the air towards Scout. They didn’t wash over him, as Door had expected, but rather, they slammed into her watchog’s back, as if they were solid objects crashing one after another into his body. Each one smashed him against the wall, again and again, until the tympole’s attack finally stopped. And then, Scout crumpled onto the ground, panting and whimpering as he held his head.

“Door.” Geist reached out and lay a hand on Door’s shoulder. “Please. Switch him out. He can’t take much more of this.”

Shrugging his hand off her shoulder, she shouted, “Yes, he can! Scout! Crunch!”

N flicked his hand towards Scout. “Tympole, Round again!”

Scout snapped his head up, and for the first time since the battle began, Door got a good look at her pokémon’s face. It looked nothing like what Scout normally looked like. His lips were curled back, exposing his teeth in a vicious snarl, and his eyes were wide and glowing. Every part of him was tense. Every part of him was _angry_.

And then, abruptly, he lunged for the tympole. The amphibian had opened its mouth again to fire off another wave of green ripples, but Scout leapt over and around these deftly, scrambling on all fours until he was nothing but a golden-brown blur on the pavement. All of a sudden, he was by the tympole’s side with his mouth open and gaping. His jaws snapped down, latching around the tympole’s body with a sickening squelch. The tympole screamed and thrashed, and a spurt of blood erupted around Scout’s fangs, but Scout didn’t let go. He held on tight, shaking his head vigorously as he sank his fangs deeper into the amphibian’s flesh. In response, Door cringed. She couldn’t do anything—couldn’t order her pokémon to stop. All she could do was watch as her watchog tried to rip the tympole apart.

So once again, N snapped his poké ball up to point it at his pokémon.

“Tympole, return!” he ordered. And then, as his pokémon was drawn back into the ball, he frowned. “I’m so sorry, my friend. I underestimated our enemy.”

Scout’s jaws snapped shut like a bear trap. Door balled her hands into fists at her side, her own anger and shock bubbling just beneath the surface of her skin.

“It wasn’t a bad attempt,” Hilda replied. “For a new trainer, this girl seems powerful. It’s just that she has to learn a little self-control, but that’s perfectly normal for someone who’s new at this.”

Door shook at the criticism. She didn’t mean to. She didn’t expect Scout to be this powerful in his evolved form, and she certainly didn’t expect him to get this emotional. But looking down at her pokémon—at the way he was still perched on all fours and at the way he shook and growled with anger—she felt a tiny splinter of panic.

And then, she felt Geist’s hand on her shoulder.

“Door,” he whispered gently. “Switch Scout out. Yes, he can still fight, but if he fights in this state, he could seriously injure N’s next pokémon. I’d hate to say it, but you’re not yet ready to calm an enraged pokémon. Recall him and use Jack instead, okay?”

She shrugged his hand off roughly. “I’m fine, okay?! I can do this, and so can Scout!”

“Door,” Hilda said.

At once, Door flicked her attention back to the champion. Hilda stared back at her with a stern, stony glare. Right away, Door’s anger dissolved, leaving only pure, cold fear at the sight of her idol staring her down not with excitement or the wise look of a mentor but instead with the expression of a parent seconds from scolding a child.

“Listen to your Companion,” she said. “Your watchog is in no state to be fighting.”

All of a sudden, everything felt cold. Door swallowed hard and pulled Scout’s poké ball from her pocket. Her pokémon hadn’t moved in those few minutes. Rather, he was still crouched low to the ground, growling and waiting for another opponent. Hilda was right; Scout was in no condition to battle. Door had embarrassed herself in front of her idol, all because she didn’t know Scout would lose control like that.

“Scout, return!” she shouted.

And to her surprise, he did. The red light of his ball swallowed him, and he didn’t fight it. He simply let it draw him off of the battlefield, and when the ball closed around him, it stayed shut. Door examined it for a second, her face twisted into a deep frown. At the edge of her peripheral vision, she watched N stride over to Hilda and hand her the tympole’s poké ball. She nodded to him, and with that, N breathed out, heaving his shoulders slowly, before returning to his side of the battlefield. The expression on his face was virtually unreadable to Door, but somehow, it looked dark in ways she couldn’t describe.

“I look forward to hearing your next pokémon’s voice,” N said. “Timburr, go!”

Door stiffened. How could N’s voice sound so calm? Didn’t he see how Scout hurt his pokémon? Didn’t he see Scout snap? Hell, didn’t he even see the way Hilda had put Door in her place? Why wasn’t he yelling at her too?

In the space between them, the light from N’s poké ball materialized into a small, child-like creature that carried a block of wood under one arm. Door knew what the creature was; it just took a moment for her to register its appearance. And in that time, the timburr twirled his block with one arm, rested it on his shoulder, and stared up at Door with a bored, impatient expression.

Geist nudged her shoulder. “Door,” he said, “he’s waiting for you to send out an opponent. I would highly recommend Jack. Huntress and Knives are both normal-types, so they have an elemental disadvantage to the timburr species. Water-types like Jack, however, are neither strong against nor weak against fighting-types like timburr. Besides, this would be a good opportunity to get Jack the experience he needs to evolve.”

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Door said. “I can do this on my own, you know.”

Taking a step back, Geist dropped his arms to his sides and gave her a steady, neutral glance. “It’s my duty, Door. Among other things, Companions are designed to be sources of information for their trainers. In every battle, we do our best to provide our partners with advice and analyses that may improve their chances for victory.”

“Well, I don’t need you to do that,” she hissed. “So, I don’t know—shut that feature off or something.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that. It could be useful,” Hilda said.

Door looked back at her to see her smiling. Actually smiling this time, in a gentle manner. Like a mother smiling at a child.

And right then, as she stared at the champion’s grin, something sick and cold wormed its way into her stomach.

“To be honest,” Hilda continued, “I kinda wish I had a Companion back when I’d journeyed. It would’ve made life so much easier.”

Door felt her heart twist. Her idol was actually supporting a cop out? It took a deep breath and a moment of clenched teeth for Door to gain control of her anger and push it deep down inside her—just enough for her to think. And when her head cleared, even just a little, she shrugged to send Jack onto the field.

“Jack, start with Water Gun,” she growled.

The otter trilled and somersaulted off her shoulder. Landing in front of the timburr, Jack rocked backwards, inhaling deeply as he went, and then exhaled a hard jet of water from his mouth. His attack cut through the air in seconds, struck N’s timburr in the chest, and launched him backwards. N’s timburr hit the ground with a thud, but the attack didn’t stop there. Instead, he was pushed—dragged across the pavement by the Water Gun—for a few meters while his block of wood skittered out of his hand and beyond its reach. Gritting his own teeth, the timburr snarled and rose to his feet again. In the dim light, Door could see a flash of his skinned back, and she grimaced at the thought of the injury.

N, meanwhile, regarded his pokémon’s injury with a steadily darkening expression. Yet even then, he refused to lose his composure. He refused to break down and say _something_ to Door.

Instead, he pointed to Jack. “Timburr, Low Kick!”

“Jack! Jump over it and Tackle! Pin Timburr down!” Door shouted.

Jack crouched in preparation, and the timburr rushed forward far quicker than Door had anticipated. She had expected him to be slowed by his injuries. She had expected him to be in pain. She had expected that agony to affect him. But no, that wasn’t what happened. One moment, he was struggling to stand up, and in the next, he was mere inches from her oshawott. His foot swept down, and Jack, who was just as surprised as Door was by the timburr’s quickness, had no time to dodge. So instead, the fighter’s leg hit him hard in his back paws, and Jack fell flat on his back, dazed and whimpering at the night sky.

“Excellent job, Timburr,” N said. “Jump back and use Bide!”

With a huff of acknowledgement, the timburr did as he was told. He leapt backwards, moving until he stood next to his block of wood. Then, he reached down, grabbed it, and planted it square-side-down onto the pavement with a thud. With it as his shield, the timburr knelt on one knee, shut his eyes, and began to hum. A soft, red light ebbed from his grayish-brown skin, but otherwise, he did absolutely nothing. Nothing to strike at Jack while he was vulnerable. Nothing to bulk himself up. Nothing but kneel and wait.

Suddenly, Door felt Geist’s arms wrap around her shoulders.

“Door,” he said urgently, “listen to me. Don’t attack. Do you see that red aura? That’s an energy net. If you strike it, Timburr will absorb damage and translate it into energy to feed that net. After a certain amount of time, that energy will explode outward, and Jack will take more damage than the amount he would have inflicted on Timburr. In other words, Bide is an extremely dangerous attack, and the only way to avoid being struck by it is to not strike in the first place.”

She squirmed in his grip. “I know how Bide works!” she yelled. “I’m Professor Ironwood’s assistant, remember?! Bide’s so simple, I’ve seen seedot use it!”

“I’m just trying to help you,” Geist protested.

“Well, don’t! I’ve already got a plan!” Door said.

Then, squirming out of his embrace, she took a step forward and looked down at her oshawott. In the time Geist had been spending explaining Bide to Door, Jack had managed to pick himself up, but he didn’t look like Scout after Tympole’s first Round. Jack wasn’t calm and unshaken; he was panting. He was bent over. Door could see bruises through his blue fur. And that was all after just one Low Kick. She set her jaw and squinted first at her pokémon and then at the meditating timburr. Her plan would have to be done delicately.

“Jack, Tail Whip!” Door cried.

Without a single question, her oshawott obeyed. He jumped, turning in the process so his backside faced the timburr. Looking over his shoulder, Jack shook his hips, wagging his bulbous, stub-like tail back and forth as quickly as he could while barking rhythmically. Door looked up to watch the timburr intently, and to her relief, one of the fighter’s eyes slid open. His gaze fixed on the tail, and his tight frown wavered ever so slightly. This was it. The timburr’s guard was lowering.

“Again!” she ordered. “Give it all you’ve got, Jack!”

Once more, the oshawott wagged his lower body. He took gradual steps backwards, inch by inch, as he presented his tail to the timburr. The timburr, meanwhile, shifted on his knee, struggling desperately to focus on maintaining Bide. But a minute later, his hum became a wavering, desperate cry, increasing in volume and pitch until it grew to a screech. And then, the net gave out, bursting outward in all directions. The red light washed over Jack, but he whirled back around to face his opponent as if nothing had happened. Throwing a look over his shoulder, Jack extended one of his paws to give his trainer a thumbs up.

And then, Door couldn’t help but grin. “Jack! Tackle!”

Jack barked and threw himself forward. The timburr was too close, too fresh from Bide to dodge, so all he could do was look on as the oshawott came closer and closer. He couldn’t even throw his hands up to cushion the blow as Jack plowed directly into his chest. At once, the timburr’s legs gave out, and he was thrown like a ragdoll back into the pavement with Jack on top of him. Once they landed, Jack planted a paw on each of his limbs to pin him to the ground.

“Good job, Jack!” Door said. “Now use Water Gun!”

“Timburr, fight back!” N called. “Low Kick!”

N’s timburr squirmed beneath Jack, but the otter held him down fast. No matter how much the timburr tried to jerk one of his legs free, the oshawott kept both of them pinned to the ground. Perhaps realizing he was trapped, his eyes widened and locked onto Jack’s face, and the oshawott’s lips curled into a wide smirk in return. Jack inhaled deeply, puffing up his chest and even rising a little on all fours while N’s timburr thrashed and howled. And then, at last, Jack exhaled, spewing another jet of water directly into the timburr’s face.

“Timburr, return!” N shouted as he lifted his pokémon’s ball into the air.

Like the others, the timburr didn’t resist. He merely vanished in a haze of red light, only to be drawn back into the poké ball. The moment Jack felt his opponent vanish from beneath him, he cut off his attack, rose to his feet, and swiveled around to face his trainer. A proud smile stretched across his face, and he barked, as if to ask her for her approval. Door walked forward and bent down to scoop her pokémon up into the crook of one arm. She used her other hand to pet his back as she stood. Part of her hesitated to smile or congratulate Jack, but the other part of her was elated. Sure, she may have lost control of Scout, but this time around, she did it. Jack was perfect, and she was in complete control. She knew exactly how powerful her oshawott was, and she acted accordingly. That meant she knew what she was doing—that she could do this without a Companion and that she wasn’t just some slightly-above-rookie trainer. She was _competent_.

So with that in mind, she let herself smile and hug her oshawott.

“You were awesome out there, Jack. Good job,” she said.

The oshawott trilled in return and nuzzled her cheek. At this, N cocked his head and half-turned away from Door.

“Your oshawott,” he said. “He’s telling me that he’s proud to have made you happy. It’s curious, really.”

“Not that curious,” Hilda replied. “You can’t be doubting the idea that trainers and pokémon can have meaningful relationships after all we’ve been through.”

He chuckled. “No, Hilda. Of course not. I’ve known you for far too long. But…” His smile faded, and he cast a glance back to Door. “I just find it curious.”

A flicker of rage ignited in Door’s chest, and she scowled at N. “Why do you ‘find it curious’?” she asked, her last words dripping with venom.

“Although I cannot hear the voices of false pokémon, I can see how a trainer acts towards them,” N replied. “All pokémon, real or not, still have hearts. This cannot be denied. You should pay attention to them when they tell you something important, especially if it’s about how they feel. This is the only way you’ll be able to bond with your pokémon and grow as a trainer.”

“Excuse me?” Door snapped. “I listen to all my pokémon! What, is this about how Scout lost control? Because that’s not my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t,” N agreed, “but you didn’t—”

“What N is trying to say,” Hilda interrupted, “is that one of the most important things about being a trainer is being aware of both a pokémon’s physical _and_ emotional states. It’s no use trying to force a pokémon to battle when it’s struggling to control its emotions. Your watchog might have been ready to battle physically, and sure, I’m certain it was ready to rip another pokémon apart, but in that kind of state, it’s entirely uncontrollable. When your watchog lost it, you couldn’t guarantee that your commands would get through to him, and he could have done serious damage. You did a lot better with your oshawott, but that’s because you’re in tune with him.”

She walked forward, her posture and expression relaxed and forgiving. Door didn’t move; she merely furrowed her eyebrows as her idol approached her and reached for her oshawott.

“May I?” Hilda asked.

The champion didn’t wait for a response. In the next moment, she pulled Jack out of Door’s arms and into her own, and she cradled the oshawott in one arm like a baby. Her other hand drifted up and began rubbing Jack’s stomach, which elicited happy barks and flailing limbs from the oshawott.

“He feels so warm,” Hilda observed. Then, looking up, she locked eyes with Door. “Let me guess. You’re more in tune with real pokémon than fake ones, aren’t you?”

Door stiffened and stared at the champion for a few beats. Then, she frowned and looked away, opting to fix her eyes on a spot on the road. Hilda’s shoulders slumped, and she shot Door a quizzical look. Then, after a heavy sigh, she glanced up at Geist instead.

“Geist, was it?” she asked. “Am I right about your partner?”

The Companion folded his hands behind his back and exhaled. “It wouldn’t be appropriate to answer on my trainer’s behalf,” he said.

Hilda gave him a small smile. “It’s okay. We’re all friends here, and I’d like to help Door as much as possible.”

Without moving her head, Door crossed her arms and glanced at Hilda. She didn’t say a word. She only waited for Geist to respond.

“Well,” he said. “It’s true. Door feels uncomfortable with fake pokémon.”

“Companions too, am I right?” Hilda asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

The champion cocked her head and gave him a wry smile. “Kinda figured, looking at you.” She straightened her posture and glanced at Door. “You know, though—and this is a tip that’s meant in general, not just in the case of Companions—the most valuable thing you can have on a journey is a friend. Don’t discount someone’s support, just because they’re robotic. N is right. Even fauxkémon can feel, on a level. Companions too, and both only want to help you on your journey.”

Hilda gently placed Jack on Door’s shoulder. Door tilted her head away from the oshawott to give him room, but she couldn’t look the champion in the eye. She couldn’t even speak. In her chest, that hot bubble of rage was back, and it was taking all her willpower not to snap at Hilda King over it. She wanted so badly to tell her all the reasons why she thought fauxkémon and Companions were creepy. She wanted to tell Hilda King about how she was the granddaughter of Halcyon Labs’ CEO and that she hated how much Companions and fauxkémon dominated her life. She wanted to tell her about Opal’s over-enthusiasm and how annoying it was to have Geist give her advice on things she already knew. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t because all of this would be inappropriate to tell the champion of Unova, the one woman she had looked up to for most of her life. So she remained silent and shaking as she reached up and pressed Jack to her shoulder. Hilda, seemingly unaware of Door’s discomfort, scratched Jack under the chin and smiled at them both.

“Give it some thought,” she said. “But if you ask me, Geist is worth listening to. He had a lot of great advice in that battle there. I have no doubt he’ll have great advice for you when you challenge the Nacrene Gym.”

Door gave her an uncertain look. “How … how did you know?”

Hilda smiled. “Why else would a trainer be in Nacrene City?” Then, her smile faded slightly, and she lifted her chin. “Word of advice, though. The gym leader of Nacrene City is the granddaughter of Lenora Hawes, one of the toughest gym leaders I’ve ever had the pleasure of battling. You’d better believe that she made sure her granddaughter’s just as tough as she was. The entire Hawes family was always like that. Smart both on the battlefield and off, and hard as nails either way.” She lowered her chin and stared deep into Door’s eyes. “Which is to say, don’t let your guard down in Nacrene Gym. N gave you a taste of what to expect. Got it?”

At that, Door nodded, and when she spoke, her voice was low and soft. “Thanks.”

Hilda’s smirk returned, and she snorted out a small laugh. Her hand moved up to stroke Jack’s head once before she turned and started walking away.

“And think about what I said about friends on your journey,” Hilda added, her voice raised slightly. “Just because they’re not flesh and blood doesn’t mean they’re not valid, okay?”

“O-okay,” Door replied. “I’ll think about it.” It was a lie, of course, but she wasn’t about to tell the champion of Unova the truth.

Luckily, Hilda didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she grinned and bowed her head, then lifted a hand to wave at Door.

“Atta girl,” she said. “N and I had better get going. Places to be and all. Don’t you worry, though. I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Until then, take care, good luck, and don’t forget what I said.”

“I-I won’t,” Door replied. “Thanks, Miss King.”

Hilda threw a glance over her shoulder with a smile. “Hilda. Please.”

Door responded with her own awkward smile as she said, “Hilda.”

With that, Hilda gave Door one last grin over her shoulder and walked away. N cast his own gaze towards the young trainer, with a steely-eyed expression that made Door shudder, before falling into step beside Hilda. Door stood, watching them silently until they disappeared around a bend in the High Line, and then, she relaxed her shoulders and shut her eyes for a moment.

That is, she shut her eyes until Jack began vibrating. Door’s eyes snapped open, and she looked at her pokémon, just in time to see him take on a brilliant, white glow. Her eyes widened, and she pulled Jack off her shoulder and held him out at arm’s length. She felt the heat of his evolution, the way his body stretched and grew heavier with every passing second, and she watched as he grew longer, as his fur grew wilder, and as his limbs grew lankier. Eventually, she had to put him down, and when she did, she stumbled backwards several steps until Geist caught her. All the while, she couldn’t take her eyes off Jack. Not until the white light burst, and he threw his head back and bayed. And there, right where her starter had been, was a taller, leaner otter. A dewott.

Jack snapped his eyes open and his head forward, and he regarded his trainer with a confident growl. She, meanwhile, couldn’t speak, but her Companion could.

“Dewott,” he recited. “The discipline pokémon. Scalchop techniques differ from one dewott to another. It never neglects maintaining its scalchops.”

As if to illustrate, Jack plucked one of the shells off his hip and twirled it in his paw. When he raised it to eye level, he grabbed its hinge and brandished it like a sword. His trainer straightened, eyebrows rising a little more until she smirked and crossed her arms.

“Well, I’ll be,” she said. “You look awesome, Jack.”

The dewott barked, twirled his shell, and clipped it back onto his hip without taking his shining eyes off his trainer. Her smirk widened in response.

“So. Hilda says Nacrene’s gym leader is tough,” Door continued. “Ready to see how tough she is?”

Jack barked one more time, prompting Door to start for the pokémon center.

“Great! First thing in the morning, bright and early, right at sunrise, let’s take on the Nacrene Gym!” Door said.

She marched to the pokémon center doors with her dewott barking and jogging behind her. Meanwhile, her Companion touched his temple briefly, stopped, and flung his hand up to signal his partner to stop.

“Door!” he called “Wait! There’s something you need to know about the Nacrene Gym! It—”

She walked right into the pokémon center without even stopping to look back at Geist. For all intents and purposes, she simply acted as if he hadn’t said anything at all. Realizing she was ignoring him, Geist lowered his hand and sighed.

“It … doesn’t open until ten,” he muttered.

—

_> CORE5.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: —16:24, follow-up on Project Galatea, re, hardware configuration. Today’s OS tests revealed that a significant amount of RAM is needed for our purposes. Solution: divide and conquer. We’ll use a multi-core system, with each core containing a separate drive dedicated to specific processes. One will be dedicated to necessary software for bodily movement; the other will be dedicated to storing data, backups, and software needed to support the LFA system. I’ve named these the digital and memory cores, respectively, for clarity’s sake._

_For the time being, I’m housing the LFA system in a third core of its own. The last thing I want is to put too much weight on the memory core and risk shutting down the connection. If that happens … well, it wouldn’t exactly mean that everything will be for naught, but it would be rather inconvenient, considering the entire point of Project Galatea and all._

_Also, I suppose I should make it official. These cores aren’t really motherboards, although I think the best way to describe them would be to call them such. They’re more like … well, it’s something else entirely. Super motherboards, if you will. Something that I thought I had designed to withstand the strain of the LFA system and unit management on its own, but … well, here we are._

_[clears her throat] So. Official definition. Core: noun, spherical components within an android unit, equivalent to the motherboard. Each core takes on a specialized function that works in perfect balance with the others to create a complex system that both enables the unit to function and allows them to operate at the speed of human thought, even when not engaged with the LFA._

_[pause]_

_Okay, that’s terrible. Revise later._

_[end recording]_


	15. Extra #3: Nacrene Center

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which N and Hilda meet an old friend.

“You know, the Nurse Joys in this region aren’t that bad.”

That was the only thing Rosa Alvarado had to say as she finished stitching closed a bite wound on a tympole’s back. She had never actually received formal medical training, but literal decades with the International Police taught her a thing or three. So when Hilda King called in a favor and asked her to patch up Natural Harmonia Groupius’s pokémon in a hotel bathroom, what else was she going to do? Turn down a request made by the champion herself?

One narrow-eyed glare from N made her wonder if that was what she _should_ have done.

“What?” she asked. Her hand snaked up to the sink to grab the scissors, but she didn’t take her eyes off N’s face.

“The pokémon centers in this part of the region are full of artificial pokémon,” he said. “I can hear their voices, but I can’t understand them.”

Rosa snipped the end of the thread. “And that means … what?”

“He means he doesn’t think the Nurse Joys in this neck of the woods know how to take care of real pokémon,” Hilda replied. She sat on the bed, her chin resting in a palm. “To be honest, I can understand why he’d be hesitant, but it’s a little silly. Of _course_ they know how to take care of real pokémon. _Lots_ of people from other regions take on the Unova circuit, which means fighting the first two gyms.”

“True,” Rosa replied as she set aside the needle, the thread, and the scissors to scratch under the tympole’s chin. “But I get it. Those trainers are usually so strong they walk all over the gym leaders. They don’t really need much more than a bandaid most of the time.”

“Thank you,” N said.

“Although…”

Rosa stood and crossed the bathroom with the tympole in her arms. When she reached N, she held his pokémon out. The pokémon was fast asleep, still under the Sleep Powder sedative Rosa had administered, so when N accepted the pokémon in his arms, he was able to do so without it fussing. He held it close, lowering his eyes to the stitches on its back with a frown.

“Although?” Hilda asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ve seen Amanita Fennel’s reports, right?” Rosa asked, casting a glance to the champion. “About the recent Dreamyard incident?”

“No, but I’ve heard a few things from N. Something about real pokémon appearing in Unova again?”

Rosa nodded. “Exactly. It’s been happening for the past few months. That’s going to lead to some big changes around this part of the region. The Nurse Joy in Striaton’s already adapting.”

Hilda frowned, examining her friend’s face. “You look rather serious about that. Isn’t this a good thing?”

“Well, it would be, but…”

Rosa shifted her gaze to N. He nodded, prompting her to continue, and with a deep breath and a heavy sigh, Rosa glanced back at Hilda.

“N’s noticed it, and I’m sure you have too,” Rosa said. “An up-and-coming radical organization holds a rally in Accumula. Shortly afterwards, thieves attempt to steal a musharna from the Dreamyard. Sound familiar?”

The corners of Hilda’s mouth dropped a little more as she eyed her company. Then, she tilted her head in her hand.

“Of course it does,” she replied quietly.

“What do you think it means?” N asked.

Hilda shrugged. “I dunno. But for now, I guess it means we keep an eye on Nacrene Museum.” Then, shifting her glance up at Rosa, she added, “Better get the Hawes family on the line. It’s time to reel them in too.”


	16. Nacrene Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door wins some and loses some.

The gym was not open. Geist held his tongue about this, and for that, Door was thankful. Of course, she had no doubt he knew that the gym wasn’t open that early in the day, and for _that_ , she decided to give him the silent treatment all morning. Yet, at the very least, she was thankful he didn’t offer any form of “I told you so.” She didn’t even acknowledge him when he suggested that if she wanted to train, she should go a little further west, to the fields between the outskirts of the city and the remnants of Pinwheel Forest. But she followed his advice anyway because she had nothing better to do.

That was at seven o’ clock. One bagel, a cup of coffee, and an hour later, and Door was standing on the outer edge of a field, just outside Nacrene City’s gate. Jack stood next to her, and Geist lingered on the path behind them with his arms crossed. Door took a sip of her coffee and peered into the grasses, watching carefully for any sign of movement. Geist, meanwhile, brought a hand to his temple and let his eyes flash over the field.

“Door,” he said, “I’m detecting a pokémon not far from where you are now. If you head south for about five—”

She didn’t wait for him to stop. Instead, she cocked her head back and downed the rest of her coffee, and once her cup was drained, she crumpled it with one hand, stuffed it in her pants pocket, and walked into the tall grass without a word. Jack followed her, but Geist sighed and crossed his arms again.

“And you’re not listening again,” he muttered. Then, a little louder, he said, “Door, hold on. Let me tell you about this pokémon, all right?”

“I’ve got it,” she said.

Ahead of her, she could see the grass rustle softly. Her eyes narrowed, and her body tensed as she motioned for Jack to move forward. Flashing a grin at his trainer, Jack rushed ahead and disappeared into the grass. As Door watched him go, she became aware that Geist was right beside her, so when she looked down and saw his hand holding out a poké ball for her, she wasn’t entirely surprised.

“Pidove,” he said. “Female. Impish nature. Likes to thrash about. Capture level seems to be beginner.”

“Yes, great, thank you,” Door responded as she swiped the ball out of his palm. Her voice was dripping in venom and sarcasm, neither of which he seemed to detect.

“She’s a _pidove_ , Door,” Geist continued. “Her types are normal and _flying_?”

Door stopped and thought about that for a second.

“Oh,” she said.

As if on cue, a gray blur burst from the grass and ascended quickly until it reached a point several meters in the air. The moment it stopped, Door could see it for what it was: a pidove, just like the one N had used in the battle against her a night ago. It—or _she_ , according to Geist—fixed her tiny, glassy eyes onto an unseen target far below and flapped her wings rapidly. A rush of air slammed onto the ground, flattening both the grass and a smear of blue against the earth. Jack howled beneath the attack, and even when the winds stopped, he struggled to stand on the flattened patch of earth. Door slapped her face at her own oversight. A _flying_ type. Of course.

“Door,” Geist sighed, “you fought one of these things last night. Literally last night.”

“I was _lucky_ then, Geist,” she growled. “N’s pidove just Quick Attacked into Scout’s mouth. This one…”

She looked up at the bird circling Jack. The pidove seemed to be waiting for something, as if she was judging the dewott and attempting to predict his next move.

“This one’s just staying up there,” she murmured.

“I … Door, are you serious right now?” Geist asked. “There is more than one way to get a flyer down. For one, you can _shoot it down_. Think about what I told you last night. About Jack and why you should have switched to him.”

She stopped for a second, then shook her head and frowned. “I know, Geist. I’m getting there! Jack, Water Gun!”

“Door, hold on!” Geist cried.

Geist’s protests came a second too late. A jet of water shot into the air from the tall grass, but Jack’s move didn’t even come close to the pidove. Instead, it simply stopped a few feet into the air and rained down on its source like a fountain, driving Jack to cry out.

Behind her, Geist sighed. “Pidove is too high for you to hit her. You’ve got to wait until she gets closer and _then_ strike.”

Door whirled around and glared at Geist. “First, you want me to hit her with Water Gun, and now you don’t?! Make up your freakin’ mind already!”

“Look out!” Geist snapped.

He grabbed her and shoved her around until she faced forward, just in time to see pidove enter a nosedive towards the grass. Door reeled back, jumping in her Companion’s hands before regaining composure and stepping forward.

“Jack, Water Gun now!” she shouted.

As the bird dropped closer to the earth, another jet of water blasted out of the grass. The pidove screeched and flapped its wings frantically, attempting to break out of the dive, but the blast struck her full in the chest. She screeched one last time before plummeting away from the jet and to the ground. Her body landed with a thud, and at once, the pidove stopped screaming.

Door tensed, one hand worming through her hair to grab her head. “Oh crap!” she hissed. “Did I kill it?!”

Geist walked forward, entering the grass. As he motioned for Door to follow, he glanced back at her with glowing, blue eyes.

“Relax,” he said. “She’s a fauxkémon. It would take a lot more than a fall to kill her, but the fall _did_ knock her offline for the time being. Come on, before her system automatically reboots.”

Door relaxed her shoulders, then nodded and followed Geist. A rustling at her side signaled Jack’s presence, although Door couldn’t see him through the tall grass, and the three of them pushed forward until Geist led her to a flattened patch in the field. There, at the center, lay the pidove with one wing twisted under her body. Her eyes were glassy and black and lifeless: offline, definitely. With a deep breath, Door tossed her poké ball and watched it smack the bird on the shoulder. A red light swallowed the pidove and drew her inside, and as it snapped shut and rolled onto the ground, Door kept her eyes on the ball until it lay still. Then, she started forward, picked it up, and examined it carefully.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Geist said.

She frowned at the ball. “What wasn’t?”

“Taking advice from me.”

Door shot him a glare. He stood a few steps from her, hands folded behind his back and an awkward smile on his face. His eyes had faded back into their usual dark brown—no light, no signal that he was analyzing her. Somehow, that made her feel a little less uneasy about being stared at by him.

“Shut up,” she said as she pocketed her poké ball. “Anyway, this pidove. Let’s call her—I dunno—Storm, I guess. If Storm’s offline, fine. I’ll train her later. But in the meantime, Jack, let’s get back to work.”

The dewott saluted and barked, then unsheathed one of his shells. Door started forward, walking deeper into the grass in search of pokémon. At first, all she could hear was Jack’s footsteps, but it didn’t take long for Geist’s to join them.

“Door,” he said, “if I’m going to be traveling with you, then perhaps we should—”

“You’re not,” she replied.

His footsteps slowed. “Sorry?”

“You’re only going as far as Castelia City,” Door said. “Once we get there, we find Halcyon Labs, I drop you off with my grandmother, and I go back to Amanita’s and take her up on that nice offer she gave me for escorting you. Technically, I don’t even have to earn this badge. We _could_ push forward and get to the Skyarrow Bridge by nightfall and then Castelia City by tomorrow, but Belle’s both flippin’ crazy _and_ a trainer, and gym challenges are a nice way to test my skills against trainers who know what they’re doing. Point is, I’m not on a journey, you’re not my Companion, and to be perfectly honest, I’m looking forward to dumping you off with Grandma Brigette and forgetting I’d ever met you.”

“Fine.”

Door stopped short. She whirled around again to face Geist.

“What?” she asked. “What do you mean ‘fine’?”

He exhaled and slumped his shoulders, and his expression morphed into one of sadness. “Door … believe it or not, we Companions are capable of responding to emotional stimuli. We can get hurt, and from that, we … understand our world, in a way. It might not be the same way you see your world, but it’s similar. And not to brag, but from what I’ve been told, your great aunt designed me to specialize in exactly that. I can’t help but think like a human, and that comes with … well, with having some semblance of emotions.” He placed a hand over where his heart would have been, had he been human. “I understand why you’re uncomfortable with Companions, and all I can say is I can’t force you to like me or the situation you’re in. As I’ve been telling you, it’s my job to do all that I can to guide you, but if that’s not possible, then fine. Do what you will.”

She stared at him for a few beats. And then, she shrugged, turned back around, and walked deeper into the grass. “Cool.”

Geist jumped. “I … really, Door?!”

Responding only with a toothy smile, Door began climbing a slope. She had no idea where she was going; she simply chose to climb that hill for no other reason than to have a vantage point from which she could spot pokémon without Geist’s help. But as soon as she reached the top of the hill, she realized it wasn’t unoccupied. At the very peak of the hill sat a pillar-like stone, and before it stood a young woman and a watchog. The woman stood quietly, her arms crossed and her dark eyes locked on the watchog, but the watchog flung itself over and over again at the stone. Its claws, curled into fists, bashed against the surface of the pillar, and with each strike, cracks laced up its face from each point the watchog struck. Door took one look at the attack and knew immediately what it was.

“Oh. Rock Smash,” she muttered.

“Sure is,” the woman said.

Door jumped. She was standing a good distance away from the woman, and she didn’t think she spoke that loudly. For both reasons, it came as a complete shock to her that the woman heard her nonetheless.

As if she could sense Door’s astonishment, the woman turned her head to grin at the trainer. Her coarse, blue dreadlocks brushed up her bare, dark-skinned shoulders, and the white beads at the tip of each braid clattered together, breaking the awkward silence.

“Hello,” she said. “I was watching your capture a few moments ago. Nice job.”

“Uh, thanks,” Door responded. “Look, um, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, so—”

“You didn’t,” the woman replied. She tilted her head, her eyes glinting in the morning sunlight. “Sophia Hawes.”

“W-what?”

“That’s my name. And you are…?”

“Door. Door Hornbeam.”

“Door. I’ll remember that.” Sophia returned her gaze to the watchog and the rock. “You know, Door, whenever two or more trainers’ eyes meet, they’re obligated to battle.”

At that, Door ground her feet into the earth and smirked. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Normally.”

Door relaxed. “But?”

“Mm.” Sophia lowered her shoulders. “May I ask why you’re in Nacrene City?”

“Just passing through,” Door replied. “Why?”

“Are you only passing through?” Sophia asked.

Door rubbed the back of her neck. “Well … I guess I’d like to get Nacrene’s gym badge, but the gym is closed at the moment.”

“I see.” Sophia lifted her chin. “Then before we battle, I should warn you about what a fight against me would mean.”

“Huh? I don’t … I don’t get it,” Door said slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s talking about the fact that she’s the Nacrene gym leader,” Geist told her.

Instantly, Door frowned and shoved her hands into her pockets. She didn’t have to look away from Sophia to know that her Companion was standing next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him, his hands folded behind his back as usual.

“Stop sneaking up on me!” she hissed.

Geist shrugged in response, but Sophia glanced back over her shoulder and grinned again.

“It’s been a while, Geist,” she said. “We’ve started to miss Amanita’s intellectual company.”

“Dr. Fennel’s been quite busy lately. She sends her apologies,” he replied.

She chuckled. “Well. My family sends our regards nonetheless. Now, is this young lady Amanita’s new assistant?”

“I’m afraid not,” Geist replied. “Sophia, this is Door Hornbeam, granddaughter of Brigette Hamilton-Hornbeam. She’s escorting me to Halcyon Laboratories, but in the meantime, she would like to challenge you to a gym battle. At your earliest convenience, of course.”

“Is that so?”

The smile on Sophia’s face widened. Her arms fell to her sides, and her fists rested by her hips.

“Ishtar,” she called. “You did well, but stand down.”

At once, the watchog stopped and twisted around to face its trainer. From the soft glow in its eyes, Door knew right away what it was: a fauxkémon, just like Sage’s team. It turned those glowing eyes up to its trainer’s face, and she jabbed a thumb to the side. With a small nod, the watchog leapt onto all fours and bounded to the edge of the hill. As soon as her pokémon was out of harm’s way, Sophia reached down and plucked a poké ball from her belt. Door could hear the whir of it expanding in her hand, but Sophia didn’t throw it right away. Instead, she bowed her head.

“Door,” she said, “it’s not enough if all you are is strong. I trust you’ve already visited Striaton Gym?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Door replied.

“Good.” Sophia tossed the ball up in the air, but not enough to release its pokémon. Instead, she simply caught it again and continued tossing it as she spoke. “In that case, I accept your challenge. I hope you’re ready.”

“What?!” Door swallowed and looked around, at the open hillside. “Here?! But … don’t we have to at least be in Nacrene City first?”

Sophia chuckled and paced away from Door until she stood next to her watchog. Then, turning, she thrust her poké ball forward, allowing it to open at last. In seconds, a herdier appeared on the field and crouched low to the ground with a growl. Door stiffened at the sight of it, unable to parse what was going on.

“Gym leaders can host a battle anywhere they want,” Geist explained. “It doesn’t matter where the battle is. What matters is whether or not a gym leader can adequately judge a trainer’s worthiness of their badge in the space they choose. Why else do you think the Striaton gym leaders were able to get away with having their gym be in a restaurant?”

“Your friend is right,” Sophia said, her chin raised slightly. “That having been said, this will be a standard battle, no time limit, and you’re free to switch pokémon if you’d like. There’s just one catch, however.”

Door blinked. “Catch?”

With a nod, Sophia added, “Normally, at the Nacrene Gym, we test your intelligence—your problem-solving capabilities in the face of adversity. We do this by forcing you to find the location of our gym floor through a series of puzzles. However, seeing as this battle won’t be held in the gym, this will have to be a … special case.”

“Special case how?” Door asked.

Bowing her head again, Sophia smiled. “Our first turn will be the same as usual: you move, then I move. This way, you’ll have a chance to get the upper hand for the rest of the battle. After that, I’ll give you a riddle. Answer correctly, and my pokémon will only use Leer. Fail to answer correctly in thirty seconds, and my pokémon will use one of their three other, more dangerous moves. Your Companion may help you, but he may not answer for you. Understand?”

Door raised her eyebrows. Was she for real? “I … guess so.”

“Then do you agree?”

With a confused smile, Door shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

“Good. Then please send out your first pokémon so we may begin.”

At that, Door bit her lip. Jack was in decent shape, but glancing over at Sophia’s watchog, she stopped herself from sending him out first. She had no doubt Sophia’s herdier was just as artificial as her watchog, and with that thought roiling in her head, Door couldn’t help but remember her battle with N—or, more specifically, all the blood Scout had drawn. Storm needed repairs and was thus out of the question, and Huntress, while tough, hadn’t yet battled enough to catch up with Door’s other pokémon. And given that Knives was _also_ real, that meant Door had only one option left. Drawing Scout’s poké ball from her pocket, she let her eyes linger on it and silently reminded herself that this wasn’t going to be like the battle against N. She wasn’t going to lose control of her pokémon, and she wouldn’t have to worry about seriously injuring her opponents. Everything was going to be fine.

“Scout, let’s go!” she said, whipping her arm forward.

In a flash, Scout materialized in front of her. He stood tall and stiff, as if he had already forgotten about the battle against N. Upon seeing Sophia’s herdier, he tilted his head and clicked his teeth together.

“Okay, Scout,” Door said. “Remember our first gym battle? Let’s do it again. Open with Crunch!”

Sophia planted her hands on her hips and inclined her head. “Neith, counter with Leer!”

Counter with Leer? While her pokémon stormed forward, Door pressed her lips together. How could a non-damaging move be used to counter an offensive one like Crunch? She watched carefully as Scout crossed the distance between himself and his target and bit down onto the herdier’s back. Neith yelped as Scout picked it up in his mouth and tossed, but it crashed into the ground, rolled, and righted itself on its feet as if nothing had happened. Instead, it fixed its red eyes on Scout with as intense a glare as Door had ever seen on a herdier’s face. Scout took a step back, dipping his body low with caution.

“Scout, don’t worry about it,” Door said. “You’ve got this. Now, use—”

“Riddle number one.”

Door hesitated, her eyes flicking from her pokémon to Sophia. A grin spread across the gym leader’s face.

“I told you the rules, Door,” she said. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“What? No!” Door responded.

“Good. Then riddle number one. Thirty men, and ladies, two. They stand about with nothing to do. Dressed in black and dressed in white, yet with one small move, they begin a fight. What are they?”

Door flinched. Thirty men? Two women? Black and white? What was all of this? She didn’t realize Sophia was serious about that twist. Who had ever heard of riddles in the middle of a gym match?

Scout looked back at her. His face was just as blank as it always had been, but something about his expression almost seemed … concerned. Worried. Door bit her lip at the sight of it.

“Time’s up. The correct answer: a chess set,” Sophia said. “Neith, Bite!”

“What?! Wait!” Door cried.

Before she could protest, Sophia’s herdier bounded across the field, opened its jaws, and leapt onto Scout. He screamed as Neith’s fangs sank into his arm, and in the flurry of confusion, the two pokémon tumbled onto the ground in a heap. Scout thrashed in the dog’s grip, his voice screeching in intermittent bursts until the herdier finally let go and bound back to its starting position. At the same time, Scout rose shakily to his feet, claws scratching at a ragged tear in his arm, right where Neith had bitten.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “Sophia’s _really_ not kidding.”

In response, Geist grasped her shoulder gently, leaned down, and whispered, “Let me help you.”

Door shrugged him off. “I can do this myself. I-I was just caught off-guard, that’s all. I don’t need anyone to look up the answers for me.”

“It’s not cheating, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Geist replied. “Besides, I’m not looking up the answers. I’m good at riddles. Just trust me, okay?”

“Riddle number two,” Sophia announced. “Without fingers, I point. Without arms, I strike. Without feet, I run. What am I?”

Door bit her lip again. Her eyes fell to Sophia’s herdier, then Scout, then the glistening metal peeking out from beneath Scout’s ripped fur. In her head, she went over the riddle again. What points without fingers? A sign? But what type of sign strikes and runs?

How much time did she have to answer these?

“You won’t be able to win this battle if you don’t answer,” Sophia said. “You have ten seconds left.”

Geist rested his hand on Door’s shoulder again, but this time, his touch was heavy. “A clock!” he said. “It has hands that point to the time, it strikes every hour but doesn’t have arms, and its gears run, even if it doesn’t have feet. You’re thinking of a clock.”

Sophia crossed her arms and lowered her head. “While that answer is correct, it’s not Door’s. I said you can help her, not answer for her. And on that note, time’s up, Door. Neith, Bite again!”

Door didn’t have time to react. She could only watch as Sophia’s herdier stormed towards Scout and leapt upon him once more. Again, the two pokémon fell to the ground, and again, Scout thrashed in Neith’s grip. The only difference was that instead of one arm, it was the other, but otherwise, the herdier trotted back to its place as it had a moment ago, leaving Scout to rise shakily to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Door,” Geist breathed. “I didn’t realize answering for you would prompt that response.”

“Forget this!” Door barked as she turned to face him. “This all is a bunch of crap! Who’s ever heard of a gym battle with riddles in the middle of it?! I mean, if she’s not going to take battles seriously, then maybe I shouldn’t either! Scout, Crunch!”

With a grateful bark, Scout rushed forward. The herdier didn’t move to defend itself, and to Door’s surprise, Sophia only watched silently. So, in the next second, Scout’s jaws clamped down hard on Neith’s neck. Scout rose up, lifting Neith in the air to shake the herdier roughly, and even then, it made no move to protest—not even to howl in pain. With one final snap, Scout tossed Neith away from him and over the side of the hill. Door could hear the herdier crash, its body crunching against the earth, and with one glance over the edge of the hill, she could see its bent and twisted form rolling down the slope until a red light engulfed it. When she shifted her gaze back to the gym leader, Door was shocked to see Sophia grinning back at her.

“Now you’re getting it,” she said.

“Getting what?” Door snapped.

“Thinking critically,” Sophia responded. “Ishtar, go!”

“Don’t let her get in an attack or a riddle,” Geist said quickly, “and don’t forget that as a watchog, Scout’s able to use more than just strong offensive moves.”

At his advice, Door’s eyes widened. Then, for once, she nodded and took his word.

“Scout, Confuse Ray! Right now!” she ordered.

As soon as Sophia’s watchog approached the exact same spot Neith had stood a moment ago, Scout stomped ahead and threw his stubby arms towards his opponent. From the tips of his claws, a cloud of golden lights swirled outward and engulfed the other meerkat. Each orb exploded into a brilliant flash of yellow, but despite how blinding it was, Ishtar burst forth and lunged at its opponent. Sophia’s pokémon slammed full-force into Scout, driving him backwards several meters until he came to a stop mere feet from Door. The other watchog, meanwhile, wobbled back to a spot close to where it started, and there, it wavered from one foot to the other in a desperate attempt to stand still.

“Hopefully, that will help you,” Geist said, “but you should consider switching Scout for another pokémon soon. He’s taken three attacks already, and Retaliate is especially powerful if it’s used immediately after a pokémon on the user’s side faints.”

“I know, but if I can just get in a couple more Crunches…” Door muttered.

“Riddle number three,” Sophia announced. “I will disappear every time you say my name. What am I?”

Geist exhaled and leaned towards Door. “Too easy. In all those times we aren’t talking, what do we have instead, Door?”

Door smirked. “Sweet, sweet relief.” Then, louder, to Sophia, she said, “The answer’s silence.”

Sophia smiled. “Correct. Ishtar, Leer!”

The watchog lifted its head and chirruped, only to wobble on its feet and slam its head into the ground. Door smirked at this. It was exactly what she was hoping for.

“Okay, Scout!” she shouted, thrusting her hand forward to point at Sophia’s watchog. “Crunch!”

Without hesitation, Scout leapt forward with his jaws wide open. His fangs snapped onto Ishtar’s head with a bang, and as his opponent flailed and screeched, Scout picked it up and shook it by the skull. He released, tossing Ishtar to Sophia’s feet, and as the watchog struggled to rise, its eyes blinked. With each blink, slowly but surely, it looked less and less confused.

“Very good,” Sophia said. “Riddle number four. I eat, I live. I breathe, I live. I drink, I die. What am I?”

“Too easy,” Geist said. “Door, do you remember Savory?”

Door flashed him another smirk. “I’d figured that one out myself, thanks very much. Fire. The answer’s fire.”

Sophia nodded. “Very good, Door. Ishtar, Leer!”

“Scout, go in for another Crunch!” Door ordered.

The two watchog moved simultaneously. Sophia’s flashed a red-eyed glare at Door’s, but this only made Scout stumble as he dashed forward with his jaws open wide. Another bang echoed through the clearing as Scout slammed his fangs down on his opponent, but this time, he lifted the other watchog up by its chest, growled, and shook his opponent like a rag doll. Then, he spat the creature onto the ground just to the left of where it had started.

“One more ought to do it,” Door murmured.

“That may be true, but don’t let your guard down,” Geist responded.

“Relax,” she said. “I’ve got it covered! Yo, Sophia! Throw me a hard one!”

Instantly, Door regretted saying that. A smile spread across Sophia’s face like ink trailing across a page, and the sparkle in her dark blue eyes told Door she already had a riddle in mind. A hard one, just as Door wanted.

“Riddle number five,” she said. “Greater than God but worse than the devil. The poor have it, the wealthy need it, and if you eat it, you’ll die. What is it?”

Door blinked. Reluctantly, she threw a glance over her shoulder at Geist, who shrugged.

“What’s in an empty poké ball?” he said.

“I dunno. Air?” Door asked.

“Incorrect,” Sophia announced.

Door looked at the gym leader with wide eyes. “Wait! Hold up!”

“Nothing, Door. It’s nothing,” Sophia replied. “Ishtar, Hypnosis!”

At once, the watchog swiveled its head towards Scout, and its eyes began to glow red. This time, Scout stared deep into them, unable to look away. Door took a step forward, but she could only watch in horror as her pokémon swayed on his feet and, finally, collapsed sideways into the ground.

“Riddle number six,” Sophia continued. “When I am filled, I point the way, but when I am empty, nothing moves me. What am I?”

Door cursed under her breath. She started forward, only to be grabbed by Geist.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “This is an active battlefield, and you only have thirty seconds to answer Sophia’s question! You can’t just run out there!”

“Shut up!” she snapped. “Scout! Wake up! Come on!”

“Door, your answer, please,” Sophia replied calmly.

“Screw the answer!” Door responded. “Scout!”

With a sigh, Sophia tilted her head. “Fine. The correct answer was a glove. Ishtar, Crunch, please.”

Scout was still limp on the ground when Sophia’s watchog waddled to his side. It bent down, jaws open wide, as Door cursed again.

“Wake up!” she screamed. “Come on, Scout!”

Ishtar’s jaws snapped shut around Scout’s neck. It picked him up and shook him violently, just as Scout had with it and Neith. But when it released, it flung Scout hard … right into the rock pillar at the side of the field. His body crashed into it head first with a crunch, and as he tumbled to the ground, Door caught one last glimpse of his smashed-in face. Everyone—Door, Geist, Sophia, Ishtar, even Jack—fell silent at the sight of Scout lying in a crumpled, twisted heap at the base of the pillar. And as Door turned her head back to Sophia, she saw the gym leader stiffen with her arms pin-straight beside her and her eyes wide on Scout.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “Door, believe me when I say I didn’t mean to have that happen. I suppose I went a little overboard.” She turned back to her opponent. “If you’d like, I could—”

Door held up Scout’s poké ball and withdrew him from the battlefield. Then, she extended her hand.

“Jack, you’re up next!” she said.

With a bark, Jack bounded onto the battlefield. He glared at Ishtar, whipped one of his shells off his leg, and brandished it like a sword. It seemed as if he was just as oblivious to what had happened as his trainer was, because his expression was one of pure determination.

Sophia furrowed her eyebrows as she glanced from Jack to his trainer. “Door … are you sure you’re okay to continue?”

“Yeah, of course I am,” she said with a shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

For a few seconds, Sophia gave her a curious glance. Then, she shook her head. “All right. Riddle number seven. When you do not understand me, I am something. When you understand me, I am nothing. What am I?”

Door glanced back at Geist, but he only stared at her with an expression of shock. Realizing he wasn’t going to give her a hint, she huffed.

“Okay,” she muttered. “What are things that stop being things when I understand them? Questions? If I answer a question, would that—oh!” She smirked. “Riddles. The answer’s a riddle!”

Sophia nodded slowly. “Correct.”

“Well, in that case, Jack, Razor Shell!” Door ordered.

While Jack dashed forward, Door realized Sophia hadn’t given her pokémon an order, but right then, she shrugged it off as meaningless. As far as she was concerned, the only important thing was the battle. She watched as Jack’s scallop sword flashed with a pale blue light and as Jack himself charged toward Sophia’s watchog. Jack howled and slashed, bringing his blade down across Ishtar’s chest. It ripped open a gash across the watchog’s body, and as Ishtar shrieked and reeled backwards, sunlight glinted off the dented, metallic flesh underneath its fake skin. At last, the watchog collapsed onto the ground.

Then, Sophia exhaled. “Door … that was my last pokémon. Congratulations. I hereby declare you worthy of the Nacrene City gym badge.”

At first, Door simply widened her eyes. Then, she cried out and rushed towards Jack. The dewott looked up with a grin as his trainer swooped down, grabbed his hands, and swung him around.

“Did you hear that, Jack?!” she exclaimed. “We won! You were so awesome at the end! Just bang!” She let go of Jack’s paws to swing one of her hands down with a chop. “One hit kill! Of course, Scout was pretty cool too, but—”

“Sophia!”

At the sound of the new voice, Door looked up to see a male research Companion rushing towards them. His eyes were glowing with bright, blue light as his porcelain face twisted into an expression of fear and worry. He stopped before Sophia and bowed, his lab coat rustling around his long legs.

“Sophia, your father said I could find you here. Please, you must hurry!” he said.

“Why?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted his head, gazing into her face. “A group of strange people in black clothes were seen running out of the museum this morning. They were carrying the skull of the dragonite skeleton between them.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “The dragonite skull has been stolen?!”

“I’m afraid so, ma’am,” the Companion replied. “The group was last seen running towards Pinwheel Forest. That was less than fifteen minutes ago. If you hurry, you may be able to catch up with them and take back the skull. Your father has already enlisted the help of an International Police officer who happened to be in the area, but he thought you may be strong enough to lend a hand.”

She nodded. “I can. Door, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a Nacrene badge on my person. Go back to Nacrene City, find the museum, and ask my father for one. Show him this as proof that you’ve met me.”

With that, she drew two cubes out of her pocket and tossed them to Door. Catching them effortlessly, Door opened her palm and examined the dice-sized, white cubes in her hand. Both were marked with gleaming, black numbers: one reading 94 and the other reading 67. She knew what these were, of course. Professor Ironwood had stockpiles of them, and Door frequently resisted the temptation to swipe a few and sell them to her trainer friends. These were technical machines, little devices that were capable of teaching pokémon new moves, and in her palm, she realized she was holding Rock Smash and Retaliate.

Closing her hand, she thought about what Sophia had said but then looked up with a frown.

“Hold on,” she said. “Was one of the people in black a woman with really long green braids?”

The Companion glanced at her. “Yes, in fact.”

Door huffed. “Then I’m coming too. I took out both of your pokémon, remember? I’ve still got four on my team who can fight, and that woman and I have a score to settle.”

Sophia shook her head. “No. I really insist that you go back to Nacrene City. You need to get to a pokémon center as soon as possible to see if they can help you salvage your watchog.”

At that, Door’s frown deepened. “What? Why?”

Geist’s hand came down hard on her shoulder, and when Door looked up at him, she found the Companion staring at her with extreme concern.

“Door,” he said, his voice shaking. “Look at Scout’s poké ball.”

Blinking, Door did as he said. She pulled Scout’s ball from her pocket, expanded it, and looked at it carefully. The ball didn’t appear any different than it usually did, except for one key exception: the button on its face was now glowing with a deep, dark purple light.

“Do you see that light?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” she replied. “What about it?”

Geist straightened. His voice made a sound as if he was breathing in deeply, even though Door knew this had to be a mimicry. Still, she couldn’t help but begin to feel cold, as if she knew what he was about to say and dreaded it.

“It means,” he said, “that Scout is dead.”

—

_> CORES6.txt_  
> Author: Lanette Hamilton  
> Notes: From the personal audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson. 

_LANETTE: —successful installation of the test personality core. Of course, for the sake of formality, a note of explanation. The personality core is a temporary core designed to house specialized software meant for testing purposes only. Seeing as I can’t install the LFA system at the moment for quite obvious reasons, I needed a placeholder that’s capable of responding in as close a manner as possible to the LFA’s target. It’s taken me a bit, but I was able to “teach” the core very basic personality traits—such as brave or docile or calm—by assigning certain actions and modifiers to each value. In theory, the unit will be able to mix and match these traits to create a more complex artificial personality, and, gods willing, respond to the tests more accurately._

_In this case, values set for the core are quirky, gentle, serious, mild, modest, docile, and—forgive me for taking liberties—wise and intelligent. That should do it, really. Or, well, it should do it in the sense that I’ll have a perfect emulation except not … well, not inclined to do anything irrational mid-test. Or, well, I know that the test dummy won’t be able to act outside of the testing parameters, but I mean … you know._

_Speaking of, at the very least, the dummy was able to move its chassis during initial testing, and all basic systems seem to be fully operational. Quite surprising for a first run, if I may say so myself. I was expecting at least a plethora of bugs besides the lag between order and execution or some issues with the analogs to the finer motor skills. But I’m not complaining. Once the personality core is installed, I’m hoping that the aforementioned comparatively minor issues will be ironed out. If not, at least the personality core can rule out the lack of an AI as the key issue._

_[end recording]_


	17. Pinwheel Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door faces confrontation on all sides.

“Okay, here’s the plan.”

Sophia handed Door’s poké balls, Jack’s included, to her research Companion. It had been less than an hour since the two had entered the forest, and apparently, they weren’t alone. In the shadows of the northern entrance, Door stood a few uncomfortable feet away from uniformed police officers that had just informed them that the guard to the Skyarrow Bridge had not seen anyone unusual pass by that morning. That meant whoever had taken the skull had to be inside the forest, which in turn meant the place was crawling with more cops than Door liked to have around. According to Sophia, they were already combing the eastern half of the forest, the areas where the higher-leveled, more dangerous pokémon lived. The western half, with its tightly-woven brambles, were still untouched.

Presently, Door watched Sophia’s Companion suspend her poké balls in a blue light above his hands, and she realized he was using healing charges on the pokémon inside. She realized what this meant: that either she or Sophia would enter the western part of the forest to root out Team Matrix, but the question was, was she ready? Her hand snaked into her pocket to feel the inert ball containing Scout’s broken body. She knew the research Companion couldn’t heal a broken fauxkémon, but she couldn’t help but ask herself what _she_ should do with it. Door needed all of her pokémon, and internally, she cursed the fact that she didn’t have time to do anything about Scout before facing Belle and Team Matrix. Scout’s Crunch and Confuse Ray could have come in handy, but with a crushed motherboard, there was no way he would be able to use either.

So with an inward sigh, Door pulled her hand out of her pocket and listened to Sophia.

“To your left, you’ll see a maintenance path,” Sophia said. 

Then, she stopped, hesitating just long enough to take Door’s poké balls from her Companion and hand them back. Door fixed her eyes on the gym leader but remained silent. She didn't even offer a thank you.

Sophia, of course, didn’t seem to notice.

“That path leads to the off-limits part of Pinwheel Forest, which in turn is normally used by the maintenance crew for the upkeep of this park,” she explained. “Vegetation grows thick towards the back, and it eventually forms a neat barrier between the safe zone and off-limits territory that Companions can’t travel through. In other words, if that group really is traveling with Companions, then this should slow them down. All we need to do is herd them along the loop to the south entrance. Door, your pokémon are in better shape than mine, so that’s your job. I’ll stay here and help the police block the other end of the path. The thieves will either run into us or straight into the Nacrene PD. Understand?”

Door nodded and shoved her poké balls back into her hoodie. “Yeah. No problem. I’ve fought the worst of them before, and she’s no big deal. We’ll get that skull back for you safe and sound.”

With a smile, Sophia reached into her own pocket and pulled out an object that she offered to Geist. Door looked at it—at the tiny, blue cube in Sophia’s hand. A fresh water charge.

“Be careful in there,” she said. “Keep an eye on her.”

Geist accepted the cube with his own smile, but something about it was off to Door. Forced. Fake. Or, rather, faker than usual.

“I will,” he said.

Sophia’s smile faded, and she glanced at Door once again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Blinking, Door replied, “Yeah. Sure. Why do you ask?”

Sophia didn’t answer. She rested a hand on Door’s shoulder for a second, then turned away from her to join the police. Door furrowed her eyebrows at the gym leader’s retreating form, but eventually, she shrugged and walked into the woods.

It didn’t take long after that for Door to realize that what Sophia said about Pinwheel Forest was absolutely true: the vegetation was thick. Incredibly thick. So thick she didn’t think a person could walk through it, let alone a Companion that needed constant guidance to go anywhere. And that was news to her, truth be told. After all, Door had never set foot in Pinwheel Forest, never mind that part of it. She hadn’t been that far away from Nuvema before then. While her mother and grandmother had spent the past several years traveling back and forth between Castelia and Nuvema, Door had never been allowed on any of those trips, and thus, she never had a chance to see for herself what the forest was like until now. All she knew was that it was a constructed form of wilderness: a planned forest meant to be a prototype for the other once-great wild spots of Unova. The other named forests, meanwhile, even Lostlorn Forest to the north, had been scrubbed clean thanks to the development of the region and the collapse of the Entralink.

So she wasn’t surprised that there was a trainer’s road going directly through it—to keep trainers away from the developing woodlands, she assumed. What she was surprised about was the thick, thorny undergrowth everywhere, coupled with the tall grass that threatened to knot around her ankles. That and, of course, the silence.

As in, minutes passed—first five, then ten, then fifteen—and she couldn’t hear a single pokémon call.

“There’s nothing in here, is there?” she murmured to herself. Pausing, she rested a hand on a tree trunk. “No patrat or pidove or … anything.”

“Not here, no,” Geist said quietly.

Door jumped at the sound of his voice. It wasn’t that she had forgotten about him. In fact, his footsteps were the only sounds she could hear besides the distant shouts of the police and any noise she made herself. But up until that moment, he had been so quiet that Door hadn’t expected him to respond to her, and even then, his voice came across so softly that she could barely hear it.

So she froze, hesitating for a moment. Behind her, she sensed Geist coming to a stop.

“The forest is too thick out here,” he continued. “There’s no point in allowing trainers along this path, so the fauxkémon don’t come here. To the east, where the police went … that’s where they are.”

“Great,” she muttered. “Mystery that didn’t need solving is solved. Thanks as always, Geist.”

She pressed onward, shoulders slumped and head bowed a little. The quicker she found that skull, the better.

“Door,” he said. “Wait. I need to talk to you.”

She motioned to the path in front of her. “Now?!”

It was then that she finally noticed the expression on his face, and at the sight of it, she felt her skin go cold. He looked grave. Sad. Even a little disappointed. She hesitated again as her mind circled that thought. How could a Companion look like that? Like he was experiencing an actual emotion?

“Yes, now,” he said. “I want to talk to you about Scout.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows. “What about Scout?”

Geist sighed and wrapped his arms around his body. He even shivered a little as he did it, and his eyes fell to the ground. Everything about his body language screamed “uncomfortable” to Door, but she couldn’t figure out why. Companions couldn’t really feel, could they?

“Door,” he said, “I’m a little concerned about how nonchalantly you took Scout’s death. If you were anyone else, I would have considered this a sign of trauma and taken the steps I’m programmed to follow when a Companion is required to comfort their users, but … I’m worried that it has something to do with your opinion towards fauxkémon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Door snapped.

Geist fanned his hands in front of him. “I’m not saying that you’re callous. I’m just saying that I don’t think you understand how serious this is, and I’m concerned about that.”

She narrowed her eyes and took a step towards him. “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

He backed away. “It means … I think you’re under the impression that fauxkémon are expendable.”

“Oh.”

Door relaxed and shifted backwards until she leaned against a tree. As soon as she did, Geist lowered his hands slowly. Cautiously.

“Oh?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” she said. “I mean, I get what you’re saying, and the answer is no, I don’t think you’re expendable. That’s stupid. Every pokémon has their own sets of experiences, and every new pokémon I catch, real or fake, is another pokémon I have to start all over with.”

At that, Geist visibly relaxed, allowing his arms to drop fully to his sides. “Ah. You understand. That’s a relief.” He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “But if you believe you can’t replace Scout, why are you so calm right now?”

Door crossed her arms. “Sure, I guess Scout getting knocked out is an inconvenience, but it’s not like we can’t fix him, right?”

For a long while, neither of them said a word. When she realized that Geist wasn’t responding, Door looked up, only to find him giving her a horrified glare. She pressed against the tree, and her fingers dug into her arms as she stared back at Geist.

“What?” she asked. “He-he’s just a fauxkémon, right? It’s easy to fix their bodies. No big deal.”

Immediately, Geist’s expression shifted, but his face became unreadable to Door. His mouth shut and stretched tight. His eyes slipped down to stare at the ground. Geist moved towards Door, forcing her to stumble sideways, but before she could get away, he grabbed her by the shoulders. Roughly.

“Door,” he said. His voice was low and quiet, yet smooth and calm. “Listen to me, and listen very carefully, okay? When I say Scout is dead, I mean he’s _dead_. That black light you saw on your poké ball? That’s not a signal for just any ordinary injury. It means the pokémon inside is either literally dead or damaged beyond repair. Scout crashed head first into solid rock. His head caved in. That’s where his motherboard is. All of his memories—all of the things that made Scout who he was—that’s all damaged beyond repair. If you tried to fix Scout, what you’d get out of your attempts would not be Scout. Do you understand?”

She tried to pull away, but Geist held her still. The second she realized he wasn’t about to let her go, Door could feel her heart pound, and she suddenly wasn’t annoyed with Geist or uncomfortable with how much he resembled a human being.

She was terrified of him. Actually terrified.

“I-I guess,” she said. “But … I still don’t get one thing. What do you want me to do? Get worked up over Scout’s…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to call it a death, not even with Geist standing right in front of her.

He sighed again. “Door … imagine that Scout was a real, flesh-and-blood pokémon. Imagine how you would feel if I told you he died.”

“But he’s not real,” Door said. “The early-route fauxkémon are designed specifically like that. Scout didn’t even have a personality.”

“To you, maybe,” Geist responded. There was a growl in his voice, but Door could tell he was using everything he had within him to keep himself calm. “But to me … you must understand what it must feel like to see something like you die.” He shook his head one more time. “No, it’s not just that. Every fauxkémon is its own entity. They have just as much right to exist as anything else, and their deaths can’t mean any less than those of any other pokémon. It’s not right to treat them differently, Door.”

“You know…” Door finally drummed up enough courage to push Geist’s arms away, and to her surprise, he yielded. “I think you’re taking this way too seriously.”

“Door…”

She whirled back around and started along the path again. “Things like this just happen, Geist. Okay, so I can’t get Scout back. That’s a problem, but it’s a problem because watchog have great movepools that would’ve made this journey a lot easier. But to get worked up over the fact that he’s broken? It’s like getting worked up over my holo caster breaking. That’s what they were designed to do. They’re designed to be toys for trainers, not some kind of pet.”

“ _Door._ ”

Stopping a few feet from where she started, Door jabbed a finger back at Geist. “Now stop it, okay? We’ve got more important things to worry about than some stupid, broken fake pokémon. That skull, remember?”

“Yeah, tell him, sister!”

In response to the voice, Door and Geist glanced up sharply, and among the branches overhead, they saw a familiar figure staring down at them with a bored expression on her face and a dragon’s skull in her hand. Belle rested her cheek on one hand as she clicked the skull’s jaws together with the other.

“Say, Belle,” she said, matching her words to every movement she made with the skull, “what walks on two legs, won’t shut up, and is a worse person than the girl who likes to steal things for kicks and giggles?” She threw a mock look of confusion at the skull. “Wow, Mr. Bonesy, I don’t know! Could it be—” Belle lifted her chin and widened her eyes briefly, then shot another bored glance towards Door. “Yeah, um, what’s your name again? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t actually care.”

“I am so going to kick your ass,” Door hissed.

Belle stood on the branch, her long braids swaying behind her. She planted her free hand on her hip as she held up the skull.

“Wow, language. Mr. Prissy McNo-fun is right behind you,” she said.

“Like I care.” Door stepped forward and pulled out one of her poké balls. “Hand over the skull, or I’m gonna beat you into next Tuesday.”

Belle swiveled her wrist to gaze into the skull’s eye sockets. “Mmm … nah. Don’t think I will. But tell you what.” She turned both her head and the skull back to Door. “Beat my friends and catch up to me, and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“Your friends?”

Geist grabbed Door and bounded forward. Door screamed and prepared to tell Geist off when a pair of patrat slammed into the earth and rolled after them. She blinked as her feet found the path, and as soon as she gained her footing, she took off running with Geist beside her.

“They’re in the woods!” Geist yelled. “Sophia was wrong! The only Companion they have among them is Starr!”

“Then why are they hanging around long enough to fight me?!” Door asked.

“Finally, you start asking the right questions,” Belle said.

Door looked up, into the trees, to see Belle bounding from one branch to another. Every time the Matrix grunt’s face came into view, she flashed Door a wide, toothy grin. Below her, Door could see a black blur traveling through the underbrush—Starr, most likely.

A brown ball of fur rushed past her hip, and Geist drew her closer to hiss into her ear.

“Jack or your new pidove,” he told her. “Jack can cut through the brush; your pidove can fly. Choose!”

Door fumbled for her pockets, drawing out both poké balls. “Both,” she growled as she flicked them open. “Belle! What do you want?!”

“Ah, music to my ears,” Belle said. “You know how annoying it is to wait for you to get it right?!”

The second they were released, Storm immediately squawked and took to the air, while Jack ran ahead of his master. Door followed Storm with her eyes as her mind scrambled for a plan.

“Are you gonna tell me or what?!” she snapped. Then, to her pokémon, she said, “Jack, Razor Shell! Storm, try Air Cutter!”

Jack twisted around and leapt at one of the brown blurs. Overhead, Door’s pidove swooped until she faced her trainer and the Companion, and with a sharp flap of her wings, she shot currents of air at the second blur. Both patrat screamed as they were bowled backwards, into the path behind Door.

“Keep it up!” she shouted.

Behind her, she could hear the sounds of battle: Storm’s gusting winds, Jack’s metallic swordplay, and the patrat’s screaming and thumping, hard against the ground and her pokémon. But Door couldn’t focus on that. All she could see were the black shadows in the forest and Belle bouncing from tree to tree. Why were they only sending two pokémon out to challenge her?

“You said I was asking the right questions,” Door shouted. “So? Answer them!”

“My, my, aren’t we pushy?” Belle responded. She twirled, showing off the skull as she leapt to another branch. “You see this, kid? Got any idea why we stole it?”

“I wouldn’t be chasing you if I did!” Door shouted.

Jack flew past her and slammed into a tree. She hesitated, but to her relief, Jack stood back up, flicked his shells out, and dove back into the fray. At that point, Door took a quick survey of the battle. One patrat was down, broken in the path, but it disappeared in a flash of light before being replaced with another patrat. _That_ was why only two patrat seemed to battle her at a time, Door realized. They _weren’t_ two; they were multiple identical patrat, being sent out two at a time.

But why?

She looked up at Belle’s smile again as the woman bounced once more out of her reach.

“Fifty years ago, someone else stole this skull,” Belle said. “They were searching for something. We know now that it’s not this, but isn’t that a neat little fact?”

“No,” Door growled. “What does this even have to do with me?!”

“Everything, if you were paying attention!”

Storm screeched and crashed onto the path ahead of Door with a thump and a patrat on top of her. Door rushed forward and swung her foot into the side of the meerkat, punting it into the bushes. With a grateful chirp, Storm fluttered out from under Door’s foot and took to the sky again.

“Keep going!” Door shouted.

Storm whistled in response, then flapped her wings stiffly at the next meerkat that dove at her. Looking over her shoulder, Door saw that Jack was on the ground beneath Storm and that he was busy with another patrat. Once again, he knocked one down with his scalchops, only to have it be withdrawn and replaced with another, identical rodent.

How many of those things did Team Matrix have?

“Fine,” Door barked as she faced forward again. “So you’re stealing the same thing some other person did fifty years ago? Let’s assume I knew what that had to do with anything. What is it that you want? I mean, you just said the skull wasn’t the thing they were looking for, so why bother stealing it?”

“Ugh. You’re so boring!” Belle whined. “Asking the wrong questions again! But fine. Because we’re getting to the end of the forest and because at this rate, you’ll never figure out what the right questions _are_ , let me just go right ahead and tell you everything Mr. Oppenheimer wants you to know.”

“Mr. Oppenheimer. That’s the leader of Team Matrix, right?” Door asked.

“Pfft! Wrong! Weren’t you listening in Accumula? Ugh, I’m not going to spell everything out for you if you’re going to keep missing the point like that,” Belle snapped. “In any case, no. Just because this skull isn’t what that other team wanted doesn’t mean it’s not what _we_ want.”

“So you want the skull.”

“No! Are you seriously not listening?”

Door gritted her teeth. Then, she whirled around and threw her hand out to her pokémon.

“That’s it!” she snapped. “Jack, Water Gun into the bushes on the left! Storm, Air Cutter into the bushes on the right!”

“Antares, Incinerate!” Geist shouted.

As the sounds of Jack’s jet of water, Storm’s gusts of wind, and the screams of Team Matrix agents erupted in front of her, Door stopped to look up at Geist. He pressed his back against hers and held up a poké ball, and as he did, it cracked open in his hand to release a brilliant, white light. The shape of Savory’s pansear burst from the ball, and the light around it swirled and turned a shimmering, burning red. As a pansear’s cry pierced the air, a jet of flame exploded from the light around Antares and shot straight for Belle. The Matrix agent stumbled on the branch and pitched backwards, away from the flames before she could even think about jumping to a safe spot. At the same time, the skull slipped out of her hands and into the pansear’s, and with his grip on the treasure, Antares bounded off the tree and back to his trainer. At the same time, within the very moment Belle had fallen from the tree, Starr leapt out of the bushes and grabbed his partner before landing squarely in the middle of the path. Geist glared back and held his arm out to give Antares a place to perch, and as soon as he had his pansear and the skull safely in his arms, he locked his eyes onto the other Companion.

Door knew why Starr was staring at Geist. She knew why Belle was giving him an odd, suspicious expression too. And she knew why all of this sounded unusual. Companions couldn’t command pokémon. They could keep them, sure, but command them was something entirely different. And it wasn’t a matter of law; it was a matter of physical capacity. No matter how advanced Companions were and how much they emulated humans, none of them had the capability of forming orders. They needed a level of creativity, a level of critical thought that was supposed to go against their programming.

Yet Geist could battle.

All of a sudden, Door thought back to the Dreamyard. It never occurred to her to ask how Savory’s pansear knew to pin Belle’s patrat to the ground. It never even crossed her mind that _Geist_ could have told it to do that. And now, seeing Geist in action, seeing him command a pokémon as if it was no big deal—no huge violation to at least one of the Laws of Robotics—left Door reeling.

“What the hell?” Door breathed.

“This has gone far enough,” he said, more to Belle and Starr than to Door. “You knew what Scout was, didn’t you? That’s why you keep using patrat after patrat. You have other pokémon, but you want Door to see your patrat specifically because they all look like hers. Is that right?”

Belle smirked. “You’re clever. Mr. Oppenheimer warned us about you.”

“Why?” Geist said. He pressed a hand into his pansear, his Antares, as the monkey let loose a low growl.

With a chuckle, Belle stepped down, out of Starr’s arms. She tilted her head with a smile and gazed at the skull in Geist’s hands almost reverently.

“Fauxkémon have just as much a right to exist as anything else,” Belle replied. “Companions have just as much a right to exist as anything else. They think. They feel. They are. That is the philosophy Team Matrix follows. Do you agree with it?”

Door glanced at Geist. He frowned but remained silent for that full minute. She even saw his jaw tense, but she couldn’t entirely understand why. He agreed, didn’t he?

“You’re reciting,” he said. “You don’t actually believe that.”

Belle pressed her lips together, her eyes rising to the sky. And then, she smiled and tossed a cube at Door. The trainer fumbled but somehow caught it, and looking down at it, she realized what it was: another TM, this one marked 86. Grass Knot.

Door looked up, uncertain of what to say, but before she could figure out how to respond, she saw Belle strut down the path with Starr in tow.

“You’re right. I don’t,” Belle said. “Companions are nice, but when it comes to the team, I’m just in it for the fun. Or … the fun and one other thing.”

“One other thing?” Door asked.

Suddenly, Jack screamed behind her. Whirling around, Door caught sight of her otter staggering backwards. Something brown and black was clamped onto his arm, and as he turned, she saw what it was: a sandile’s jaws. The rest of the sandile dangled from Jack and held on tight, even as the dewott raised a shell and slammed it down onto the creature’s head.

“Jack!” Door shouted.

She stepped forward, ready to jump in and yank the sandile off her pokémon, but with a howl, Jack thrust his arm upward and slammed a glowing scalchop into the sandile’s underside. That move finally ripped the sandile off his arm, and the pokémon went flying, arcing high into the air until it came crashing down on the path. It opened its jaws wide and flashed its long teeth at Jack before its tail dug into the earth behind it. Then, it whipped itself around, its tail flinging dirt into the air. Its claws kicked backwards quickly, and before Door could realize what was happening, a cloud of sand and earth swirled around her. She sputtered and coughed as she lurched into the cloud and shielded her face with an arm. Through the dust, she could hear Storm screech. White crescents of light flashed through the dust and slammed into the path, dispelling the cloud and knocking the sandile into the bushes. Storm swooped down and came to a rest on Door’s shoulder, and for the next few seconds, all was quiet.

The battle, as far as Door knew, was over. She realized that the sandile had to be the toughest pokémon Belle and her fellow grunts had, and this pokémon was just knocked into the bushes. With that thought in mind, Door reached for Storm with one hand, flashed a grin at her bird, and turned to face Belle once more, but the pride and relief she felt for her pokémon lasted only a short while.

What killed that moment of triumph was realizing Belle and Starr weren’t alone. Belle dangled from the twisted tail of a swoobat with a wide, almost maniacal grin, but Starr was riding a hydreigon—the one that was generating the wind—just behind the one face Door had least expected to see.

That of the girl who spoke in Accumula City. Magdalene.

Door stared up, at the Companion’s hazel eyes and at the way she stared back coldly. There was something oddly familiar about her, something about the way her eyes looked or the solemn expression on her long, oval face. Or perhaps it was the red hair, hidden beneath her black hood, curled at the bangs. Something was definitely familiar about her, but Door couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

But just as she arrived at that thought, Belle finally answered her last question.

“The Electric Messiah is real, and he will rise up,” she shouted over the hydreigon’s gusts of wind. “And when he does, there will be a revolution. No offense, kid, but you might as well be on the right side when that happens, am I right? Ta!”

With that, the hydreigon blasted one last gust of wind from its six wings and shot up, past the forest canopy, and Belle, the swoobat, and the other Team Matrix agents with their own flying-types followed suit. And in that moment, as Door watched Team Matrix fly away with its power fleet of mandibuzz and braviary, it occurred to her that she _didn’t_ stand a chance against them. They were simply toying with her—testing her.

With her mind circling around that single thought, Door took the skull from Geist and stared at it quietly, and the longer she dwelled on what she had just seen, the more a single word pushed through her myriad of questions and flooded her brain.

_Why?_

—

_> LAUNCH.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the video records of the PROJECT GALATEA experiments. Video depicts initial boot-up of SERIES ALPHA ZERO-ONE. Audio track transcribed by Bebe Larson. Rest of video was lost in LFA Incident._

_LANETTE: [excitedly] —16:00 on the dot! Okay, this is Project Galatea, post installation of the LFA system, first test of synchronization with the LFA. And we’re recording! Sorry! Just need to take a few notes. I mean, I know this is a rather out-of-the-ordinary situation, but who knows? Maybe we’ll need to refer back to this eventually. Oh! Sorry! I’m rambling! How are you?_

_[rustling]_

_LANETTE: Gods … just look at you! Let’s see … audio output is perfect … visuals—you can see me, right?_

_[a hum]_

_LANETTE: Perfect! Oh wow. It’s even responding to the facial emulation software! Oh! Here. Let me drag this a little closer._

_[sounds of something heavy being dragged across concrete]_

_LANETTE: There. What do you think?_

_████: Is … is that…?_

_LANETTE: I know! Perfect, isn’t it? Oh! Sorry. I’m just excited. You know how it is. I can’t tell you how hard these past few days were. I mean, this—um. Well. Sorry._

_████: No. No, it’s fine._

_LANETTE: Oh, this is amazing!_

_████: You’re still recording._

_LANETTE: Huh? Oh! Oh, sorry! Hold on._

_[sounds of the microphone being shifted]_

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, test one, post LFA installation. I’d say all systems are go!_

_[something crashes in the background]_

_LANETTE: Oh! Geez! Don’t move! I haven’t taught you how to—_

_[end recording]_


	18. Skyarrow Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Geist is more human than Door will ever know.

As far as Door was concerned, it was over.

The skull was back in Sophia’s hands, Sophia was heading back to Nacrene to tie up loose ends with the police, and Door was on her way to Castelia City in the back of an unmarked police car driven by another champion of Unova, Rosa Alvarado. Door would have been excited by that last part, except for two things. First, Rosa wasn’t much to write home about. Just a trainer who fell off the face of the earth after stepping down from the Unovan throne … to join with the International Police, as Door quickly found out. Second, Door was tired. It was early evening, but Door was tired.

At the very least, she finally gave some kind of statement, as she should have done way back in Nuvema City. She told Rosa and the Nacrene police everything, from her first battle in Nuvema all the way up to the last one in Pinwheel Forest. They had her repeat the story to police Companions who recorded her every word, thanked her, and sent her on her way.

And that was that, and that was _fine_ , as far as Door was concerned. It didn’t matter to her if they set aside her statement or asked Geist for his video-recorded memories. She knew that the unreliability of human memory was nothing compared to the hard evidence stored in a Companion’s head, but the truth was … she didn’t care. She really didn’t. All that mattered to her was crossing Skyarrow Bridge, the last step between her and Halcyon Labs and therefore the second-to-last step before she finally wrapped up this so-called journey.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly against the pane of glass. A wet fog blossomed across the window, and Door jabbed a finger into it and began to doodle across the pane. Her eyes peered past the fog, across the softly glowing pedestrian bridge in its blues and whites, and out to the sunset. Orange fingers of light set the sky on fire, and the lights of Castelia created a hazy, purple glow straight ahead of her. Both of these shades glittered across the black depths of the Empire River far below, and that, combined with Door’s preexisting weariness and the smooth ride of Rosa’s hovercar, made it difficult for Door to keep her eyes open until she stopped to see what she was drawing.

A watchog’s face stared back at her, puffy and cartoonish and stark in white and orange. Door hesitated for a second, then slapped a palm against the glass and rubbed the window clean. It didn’t matter to her. Nothing mattered. This would all be over in less than an hour. It didn’t normally take very long to cross the Skyarrow Bridge from Pinwheel Forest, and from there, Halcyon Labs’ headquarters couldn’t have been far. This would all be over by nightfall, and she would forget about everything the next day. She would forget about Geist, about Team Matrix, about her grandmother…

…about Scout.

With another deep breath, Door pulled away from the window and leaned her head against the back of the seat. At last, she focused on what was going on around her, on the sounds of Geist playing a hologram of his memories next to her. A tiny version of Belle floated above one of his palms, suspended by the equally small and flickering form of a swoobat. Door clenched her jaw at the recording of her voice, at how it carried a hint of laughter as it cut through the wind.

“The Electric Messiah is real, and he will rise up. And when he does, there will be a revolution. No offense, kid, but you might as well be on the right side when that happens, am I right?”

She winked out of existence as Geist closed his hands into fists.

“That’s all,” he said. “After that, she and the others flew north, but you already know that.”

“Mm.” Rosa relaxed against the driver’s seat, but Door could see from her angle that the agent’s knuckles were ghost-white. “Thank you, Geist. There’s a link-up in the backseat there. Do you mind uploading that to my server? I’d like to look at it on my own time.”

“Of course.”

Door watched Geist roll up his sleeve and open a slot in his forearm. He reached for the console between the driver’s and the passenger’s side of the front, then drew a long, white wire from one of its compartments. With a click, he slid one end of the wire into the opening in his arm and leaned back, but as he did so, he caught Door’s eye. She tensed and shifted, turning her gaze back to the window.

“I’m also sending along a few more files,” Geist said after a moment’s hesitation. “All of these are videos of our previous encounters with this woman. The only one that’s missing is my partner’s battle in Wellspring Cave.”

“Ah. The Wellspring Cave Incident. I have Door’s statement,” Rosa replied.

“Yes.”

Geist exhaled, but Door knew it wasn’t real. Companions couldn’t breathe, and therefore, they couldn’t sigh, they couldn’t gasp, they couldn’t do any of the things that required sound besides talking, but they sometimes emulated sighs and gasps and so forth anyway to mimic human emotion. Door closed her eyes. What was the point of that? Why was it so important that they pretended to be humans, right down to the way they sighed?

“May I ask you something?” Geist asked.

Door’s eyes refocused on the window until she could see Geist’s reflection. He leaned forward and rested his exposed arm on one knee. His face was locked into a deep but curious frown, and the stark difference between the wire in his arm and the natural-looking tenseness of his expression turned Door’s stomach.

“Go ahead,” Rosa replied.

“Do you know what Team Matrix’s goals are yet?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “if they’re to be believed, they want to liberate Companions. Or create a society where Companions and fauxkémon are equal to their real counterparts. However you want to phrase it.”

“But?”

Rosa shifted, glancing into the rearview mirror at the both of them. “What do you mean?”

“You said ‘if they’re to be believed,’” Geist replied. “That means you don’t necessarily believe this is true.”

With a smile, Rosa pulled away from the mirror, shifting her eyes back onto the road. “Ah. That’s what Dr. Fennel meant when she said you were observant. But yes, good catch. That’s what they say, anyway, but between you, me, and your partner, this seems a little too fishy. You’re a Companion, right? Do a search on Hilda King and see if you find a pattern.”

“I don’t have to,” Geist answered. “I see you’ve spoken with Dr. Fennel, so I doubt I need to tell you I belonged to her up until recently. She and her sister were partly involved in the events that transpired fifty years ago, and she’s already warned me about the exact patterns you’re talking about.” He frowned, glancing down at his arm. “Still … why now?”

“I have theories about that,” Rosa said. “Sometimes, a group needs to gain traction and members to make their big move. Just look at Team Rocket. Took them three years of running semi-legitimate gambling operations in Kanto before they were able to take over any part of Johto. Operations need time and money.”

“They’re just a cult,” Door muttered, “and you’re talking about them like they’re the yakuza.”

“Matrix? Good point,” Rosa replied, smiling into the rearview mirror. “But that’s what we thought about Team Plasma, and look at how they turned out. It’s no coincidence that Team Matrix is copying Plasma’s actions, right down to fighting a beginning Nuvema trainer in the Dreamyard. That takes dedication.”

Door huffed, propped her elbow on the edge of the window, and narrowed her eyes at the fiery sky. “I’m not a trainer.”

“Maybe not, but Team Matrix thinks you are. And you’re from Nuvema, which means you’re exactly what they’re looking for.”

At that, Door shot Rosa a dangerous look. “Excuse me?! I’m not some kind of virgin sacrifice here! I’ve got nothing to do with this!”

Rosa shrugged. “Maybe not. Maybe it’s not you. I don’t know. I just know that Team Matrix would probably need someone to serve as the Hilda surrogate until they can get their hands on the Electric Messiah.”

“What are you even talking about?” Door grumbled.

“You can’t tell?”

“Would I be asking?”

“Guess not,” Rosa responded through a chuckle. “All right.”

Rosa gunned the car a little. Door shifted her eyes to the window again, and she noticed that the edges of Castelia were closing in around her, obscuring her view of the sunset. It wouldn’t be long now until they came across Halcyon Labs, especially given that Rosa seemed to know where it was. She didn’t consult a map or GPS device, and as soon as traffic began to slow, she flicked her car from lane to lane and continued onward with purpose. Despite the traffic, Rosa managed to keep her speed steady, just fast enough to keep Door from taking in the sights around her, from seeing the dingy sidewalks or the flashy billboards. But as Door leaned her head against the window and glared out at the urban twilight, she knew they were there: all the signs, all the people, all the things she hated about that region.

After all, this was Castelia City. City of grandeur.

“Zekrom,” Rosa said.

Door shot a look at Rosa. “What?”

“Zekrom,” Rosa repeated. “That’s the Electric Messiah.”

At that, Door shook her head. She didn’t let it sink in because it _couldn’t_ for her. “I … what?”

“Don’t be so surprised,” Rosa said, flashing another smirk into the rearview mirror. “I’ve been with the International Police for a few decades now, so I’ve seen my fair share of organizations like Team Matrix. Nine times out of ten, they’re after _some_ sort of legendary pokémon, so it’s not as if name-dropping another one is all that unusual. But in this case, if Team Matrix is deliberately mimicking Team Plasma like I think they are, then they’re definitely after Zekrom.”

“And you’re certain of this,” Geist said.

Bringing her eyes back to the road, Rosa nodded. “Positive. That’s the only electric-type pokémon Team Plasma was after. It wouldn’t make sense to call Reshiram an _Electric_ Messiah, would it?”

“Yes, but…” Geist yanked the cord out of his arm and leaned forward a little more. “They were referring to the Electric Messiah as a ‘he.’ Zekrom is genderless.”

“So? Meloetta is genderless, and everyone thinks that’s a she.”

Geist sat back, smoothing a hand over his arm to click it shut. “I suppose. But what’s all this business about the Electric Messiah rising up?”

Rosa shrugged. “Beats me. Public knowledge about the whereabouts of Zekrom and Reshiram is highly limited, so it’s impossible for Team Matrix to obtain that information.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She smiled. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.” Glancing back at the street, she dodged a car and added, “But anyway, Team Matrix’s plan is pointless. They won’t be able to find Zekrom by copying Team Plasma.”

By that point, Door had had enough. She hovered at the edge of this conversation, listening to Rosa and Geist puzzle over Team Matrix and Zekrom, but now? Now that Rosa had casually informed her she was somehow vital to their plans to find a _legendary_ , a very important, conveniently avoided topic nagged at her mind. So she shot Rosa the foulest of looks before she started in on that very subject.

“Okay, that’s nice and all,” Door said, “but isn’t it, you know, kinda a _bad_ thing that Team Matrix is after a completely innocent girl who has nothing to do with Zekrom? So, what am I supposed to do? Just run from Team Matrix until they give up trying or until you round them up?”

“Of course not,” Rosa replied. “Team Plasma’s timeline in Unova is pretty well-known, thanks to the players involved. All you have to do is avoid being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you’ll be fine.”

Door stared at Rosa for a long while. In the ensuing silence, the car crossed into thickest part of the city, swerving to dodge heavy traffic that seemed to have sprung out of nowhere. Gazing at the wall of cars all around her, Door turned Rosa’s words of advice over in her head.

“No offense,” she said at last, “but that’s a stupid plan.”

Rosa shrugged. “Probably so, but until we can figure out what, specifically, Team Matrix is after, that’s the only plan we’ve got. We’re headed to Halcyon Labs, right? Maybe someone there could reconfigure your Companion with bodyguard protocols to ensure Team Matrix doesn’t try to push you along their schedule anyway.”

“Excuse me?!” Door snapped. Her hand clutched the handle of the door roughly, and she leaned in to glare at Rosa. Just before she spoke, she jabbed a thumb towards Geist. “First off, if you’re going on about this thing, it’s not my Companion. I’m just delivering it to my grandma because apparently, it’s important somehow to all of this too. Second, I’m not getting a nanny, period. I’m going back to Striaton to see Amanita about an internship she’d offered, and that’s going to be the end of this little story, okay? I’m not getting involved with those Matrix dumbasses. I just want the reassurance that they’re not going to come after me anyway.”

She felt a hand clamp over her wrist, and looking up, she saw Geist narrow his eyes at her.

“Door. I am a ‘he,’ not an ‘it,’ and furthermore, I find serving as your bodyguard just as undesirable a situation as you do,” he said. His voice was low, calm, and quiet, but it sent chills down Door’s spine. As he transferred his glance to Rosa, he frowned, mimed inhaling deeply, and said, “But Door’s right. If her presence will help Team Matrix in any way, you can’t expect her to simply avoid them. They’ll do anything they can to ensure that she’s exactly where they need her to be at all times. That’s not all, either. They had planted agents in Amanita Fennel’s laboratory, even without prior knowledge of what Dr. Fennel was working on specifically. From what Professor Ironwood has told me, neither of her assistants have any ties to Team Matrix, yet it would make more sense, if Matrix was indeed looking for a new trainer, to plant an agent in Professor Ironwood’s laboratory. So … why Dr. Fennel?”

Door realized right away that Geist wasn’t asking about Amanita. His line of thought seemed like a non sequitur if no one knew about everything she and Geist had gone through, but she knew there was an implied question there. One that made her instinctively reach into her pocket for Jack’s poké ball.

In the rearview mirror, Door saw Rosa press her lips together. Then, she turned the wheel, easing the car down another street. Outside, the signs continued to glitter and pulse with every second, and out of the corner of her eye, Door could finally see it all: the car-filled roads, the softly-glowing pedestrian walkways full of tourists and people, the concrete-and-glass buildings stretching skyward all around her, the dark crevices and canyons between buildings and underneath the roads, and all the little details that made Castelia the neon labyrinth it always was. Even with half her mind devoted to the conversation, Door began to feel a sense of claustrophobia, a sensation of the buildings closing in around her and the darkened spaces deepening with every second. It made her edgy and fouled her temper even more as she waited for Rosa’s response.

“Dr. Fennel asked that very same question,” Rosa said after a long moment, “and I’m sad to say I can’t answer that right now. Not until I figure out what _precisely_ they’re doing. You see, the two of you might have been working on a piece of the overall puzzle, but the fact of the matter is this is a lot bigger than just you. It’s about legendary pokémon, and by sheer coincidence, it just so happens that Unova’s dealing with a whole host of its own problems and wouldn’t be able to defend itself from an organized attack. So if Dr. Fennel _was_ working on something that might make summoning and capturing pokémon easier—and believe me, I’ll be scouring the data you’ve given me with that thought in mind—it’s only part of their plan.” 

She glanced into the rearview mirror, and Door couldn’t help but look into her eyes. Door shuddered, realizing how different from Hilda’s they were. Sure, they were the same color, and sure, there were similar crows’ feet etched into the corners, but whereas Hilda’s were friendly and glittering, Rosa’s were hard and burning with raw determination.

“I apologize for insinuating you needed protection, Miss Hornbeam,” Rosa said, “and for speaking on your behalf, Geist. I just think it’s best if the two of you lay low for a while. The champion and I are doing everything we can to stop Team Matrix, and you don’t need to get involved. Same goes with Professor Ironwood’s niece.”

At the mention of Professor Ironwood’s niece, Door’s expression faltered. “Wait. Ironwood’s niece? What’s Blair got to do with it?”

“Think about it,” Rosa replied. “It’s true that you stopped Team Matrix from stealing all of the starters and that you were in attendance at the Accumula rally, but you weren’t alone for the others. What’re the odds that Team Matrix noticed you during the rally? What if you aren’t the only one marked as a potential stand-in for Hilda?”

Door swore internally. It was true. Who did Team Matrix attack first in the Dreamyard? Blair. Who else was with her in Wellspring Cave? Blair. Who was supposed to be there in Nacrene City, just in time for the theft of the skull? _Blair._ Door bit her lip and looked out the window, letting the revelation sink in. She didn’t even think to record Blair’s number so she could keep in touch, so she had no way of knowing how Blair was doing. If Door stepped away from whatever was going on, then what would happen to Blair?

The car slowed to a stop alongside several other police vehicles. Refocusing her attention, Door realized they were in front of a tall, black skyscraper standing straight and tall next to sharp, angular, glass-covered buildings. The building was plain, just a black facade with a single decoration on it: a pair of white wings crossed one another, glowing softly in comparison with the bright and gaudy electric advertisements covering the rest of the block. To Door, the whole structure seemed out-of-place. Alien. Even the logo, which had seemed so warm and cartoonish when it decorated the signatures of her parents’ emails, seemed stark and glaring, like an eye set into a soulless, steel face.

Abruptly, the car door opened, and Rosa stepped aside to let her out. Door bit her lip, pulled herself out of the car, and walked a few more paces until she stood at the edge of the walkway. This was her first true look at Castelia City: a perfectly formed sphere of light, suspended above cracks of pitch darkness. Well-lit pedestrian walkways extended out from the sides of each building, creating ribbons of concrete and plexiglas suspended above unseen districts. As she crossed the bridge from the edge of the street to the pedestrian walkway, Door looked over the wall at its edge to the darkness below. She couldn’t even see the surface streets, the cracked and barely-maintained slabs of asphalt where the true locals of Castelia lived. That was the point, though: to generate lights so bright, so dazzling, that visitors would forget all about whatever might be lurking beneath them.

And that, along with the thought of Blair and Team Matrix and meeting her mother for the first time in months, made Door sick.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she violently shuddered at the sensation. Glancing up, she caught Rosa’s eye as the agent gave her a steady look.

“We’re going to do everything we can to keep both you and Professor Ironwood’s niece safe,” she said. “Until then, please be patient and please stay with people you know.”

She patted Door’s shoulder, and that gesture made Door feel a little sicker. Door watched Rosa walk with purpose into Halcyon Labs, and in that moment, she suddenly felt very small and naked amidst the lights and prospects of an uncertain future. And as she stood there, loitering at the front doors of her inheritance, she couldn’t help but ask herself a single question.

What _would_ happen to Blair if she backed out?

“Door.”

Shaking off her last fragments of confusion, Door shot Geist a glance. He had crossed half of the bridge to Halcyon’s front entrance, and right there, he stopped to stare at her. Something about him shifted in her mind. Perhaps it was the fact that she knew going back to Nuvema or even Striaton was becoming less and less of a possibility for her. Perhaps it was the fact that she had no doubt now that he wasn’t a real person. Perhaps it was, despite the fact that he wasn’t real, the look on his face seemed genuinely upset—genuinely angry or frustrated or…

It was at that moment that Door finally realized he wasn’t just staring at her. He was _glaring_.

“What?” she asked.

He exhaled. “Agent Alvarado has already gone inside. Your grandmother and mother are waiting for us. Don’t you want to get this over with?”

Door frowned. She wanted to ask why he looked so resentful. Sure, she knew. She had, after all, intentionally spoken about him as if he was just a thing, and to be perfectly fair, she wasn’t in the least bit sorry about that. He was a thing. Period.

True, he may not have been manufactured on a conveyor belt in a factory like most other Companions were, but he was still a _thing_ —a being made of rubber and metal and wires and so forth, whose entire personality was fabricated by a human being and controlled by circuits. All of the thoughts he had, all of the feelings that could have defined “anger” and “hurt” and whatever else he might have felt as a result of the way Door spoke about him, were just emulations. They were things determined by a computer in an effort to resemble what a living, breathing human being would expect a person to experience.

Geist was fake. It was that simple. And Door kept saying this to herself, even as she walked briskly past him and entered the building.

She didn’t care if he was following her.

The door whirred open, giving way to a pristine lobby. Everything inside was neat and orderly, from the shining, black walls and white floor to the fake plants clustered around the faux-wood reception desk at the far corner. Even the soft hum of Muzak coming in from the speakers sounded exactly _right_ to Door somehow. Uncannily so. In fact, everything seemed perfect. Quiet. Professional. Efficient.

Including the police officers who loitered around the reception desk.

“What’s with the suits?” Door asked, eying them warily.

“A precaution,” Rosa replied as she led Door to the reception desk. “We’ve got an ongoing investigation involving a criminal organization centered around Companions, after all. Companion-related crime isn’t a new thing, but this entire business about Companions and free will _is_. If anyone knows anything about Companions and that, it’s probably someone in here.” She grinned at Door and added, “Besides, I told you. We’re doing everything we can to ensure your safety, Miss Hornbeam.”

Door narrowed her eyes at Rosa but said nothing in return. Instead, she glanced around the room as Rosa leaned over the reception desk. The agent spoke in hushed tones to the well-dressed and preened male receptionist—a human being, Door noted, rather than the Companion she had expected—but Door wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. She was busy letting her eyes wander, taking in the polished starkness of the lobby, until they focused on a portrait on the far wall.

Furrowing her eyebrows at it, she strode past the officers—whose nods of respect she completely ignored—until she stood in front of it. There, in full color, a young woman sat in front of a bank of computers and smiled outwards, into the lobby. Everything about her screamed “proper": her lab coat and green dress were spotless and pressed, one slim ankle was crossed neatly behind the other, and her long, manicured hands were folded in her lap. Even the tidy way her wavy, orange hair fell about her slender shoulders made her seem perfect.

Door’s eyes fell onto the plaque beneath the portrait. Silently, she read the words etched on its brass surface.

_Lanette Hamilton_  
(1981-2042)  
Inventor of the Companion System  
“If you have the ability to change the world, then do so.”

“That’s not right.”

At the sound of his voice, Door shot a look towards Geist. He stood beside her, hands folded behind his back, eyes fixed steadily on the plaque.

“The quote is,” he said, “‘If you have the ability to do something good, you might as well do good. Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering how you could have made the world a little brighter.’ And she never said it. She believed it, though.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember her,” she said.

“I can’t.”

“So how do you know?”

He glared at her without turning his head away from the portrait. “Dr. Fennel.”

Cringing at his expression, Door took a step to the side and swallowed. “Oh. Right.”

A long moment of silence lapsed between them. Door shifted on her feet and stared at the painting. Geist was more than a little angry at her, but why did that bother her so much? Why did it make this moment so awkward? She was right, after all; he was just a machine … right?

Still, the silence was cold and uncomfortable, and seeing as Rosa wasn’t about to swoop in and interrupt, Door found herself scrambling to fill the void … if only to distract herself from how angry Geist seemed to be.

“So,” she said, drawing out that single syllable before continuing, “who said it?”

Geist closed his eyes and exhaled—or did something that sounded like he was. And it wasn’t enough that he took the time to mimic a long breath outward, either. It sounded like a sigh of exasperation: another emotion that Door was surprised Geist could emulate so well. Geist was _trying_ to show her how much he disapproved of her, and that only made the tension between them feel all the more unbearable to Door.

Which, she realized, was the _point_.

Door decided then that Geist wasn’t just an object. He was a _prick_ too.

After a moment, he finally spoke. “Who do you think said it? The only person she respected enough to—”

Before he could finish, an explosion shook the building. Door snapped her eyes towards the ceiling, towards the source of the commotion. Behind her, she could hear the police officers jump into action, shouting over walkie-talkies as their boots slammed onto the floor. As if by magic, Rosa was at her side in the next instant, and before Door could protest, she grabbed her elbow and walked her towards the center of the lobby. All the while, Door frantically looked from the frazzled receptionist to the police to her escort.

“What’s going on?” Door asked. “Where’s my mom?”

Rosa rounded on her and planted her hands on her shoulders. “Miss Hornbeam, I’m about to tell you something you might not like, but you have to promise me you’ll stay calm, all right?”

Door tried to shrug the agent off, but when it was clear Rosa wasn’t about to let go, she switched to glaring at her. “I’m fine. Where’s my mom?”

“Upstairs,” Rosa replied. “Probably a floor or two down from where that explosion took place. We’re not quite sure yet.”

In response, Door tried to tear herself away, intending on making a beeline for the elevators, but Rosa’s hands gripped her shoulders a little harder. Door sucked in a sharp breath and glared hard at Rosa. Her shoulders were beginning to ache under Rosa’s death grip, but she couldn’t push herself to care.

“What’s your problem?!” she snapped. “Lemme go! I’m going upstairs!”

“Not without me,” Rosa said.

“I don’t care if you and the rest of these cops go with me,” Door said. “Just let me go upstairs!”

“Miss Hornbeam, listen to me,” Rosa responded.

At last, Door wrested herself away from the agent and took a step back. “Just say it, okay?!”

And then, she stopped. Throughout their drive across the Skyarrow Bridge, Rosa looked at her with a full array of emotions. Determination. Pride. Slyness. But the look she was giving Door at that very moment was something different. Blank. Solemn and sunken.

Something was wrong. That much Door knew.

And she knew it even more when Rosa opened her mouth.

But before Rosa could speak, someone else did. Someone familiar, using the building’s PA system.

“Goooood evening, Halcyon Labs!” Belle said. “May I have your attention please? This is a hostile takeover, courtesy of your friendly neighborhood revolutionists, Team Matrix! If Miss Doreen Hornbeam is in the building, could she and her cute little Companion Geist make their way up to the executive office on the tippy-top floor? That’d be just peachy! And by ‘peachy,’ I mean ‘a situation in which I _won’t_ have to shoot somebody’s grandmother.’ Thanks!”

With that, the PA system went dead, and Door stared at the speakers. She was acutely aware of Geist next to her, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see that his expression was no longer one of anger.

It was one of rage.

—

_> GALATEA27.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the personal audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. Audio track transcribed by Bebe Larson. Rest of video was lost in LFA Incident._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, follow-up, day thirty-seven. Series Alpha Zero-One, as he would like to be referred to in these notes, is functioning perfectly. Spirits seem to be up. System has no issues in syncing, even when the chassis is brought out of sleep mode. All in all, it actually works better than I thought it would._

_Well, except for one thing. The chassis isn’t really calibrated perfectly. I mean, in my defense, I forgot to take into consideration that organic tissue, human tactile strength, and so on and so forth are significantly less exceptional than a titanium alloy skeletal structure compounded with a hydraulic pseudomuscular system._

_Which is to say that I am nearly out of glassware._

_Zero-One means well. He wants to assume the role of my companion, I think, so he wants to be as useful around the house as he possibly can be. It’s just that we haven’t figured out how to account for his … um. For the abilities that are inherent with his form. [whispers away from the microphone] Geez, that’s really weird to say out loud. [back into the microphone] In any case, I’ve been working with him to devise a series of learning exercises. I don’t really want to recalibrate the chassis or the LFA system after I’ve spent so much time getting them to sync up properly, so instead, the next best solution is to get Zero-One himself to—_

_████: [at a distance] Lanette?_

_LANETTE: Oh. [louder] Over here!_

_[sounds of footsteps]_

_LANETTE: Sorry. I was just—hey, is that one of my glasses? Oh gods above, you figured it out! Hold on. Let me put a new tape in. We’ve got to get this down!_

_[end recording]_


	19. Halcyon Labs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door finds purpose.

Door exhaled. Her fingers rolled Jack’s poké ball over in her hand—slowly, carefully, with each tip pressing the device’s plastic surface into her palm. The elevator around her hummed, and as she stared at the reflective steel surface ahead of her, she tried to focus on all the possibilities of what to expect next. Rosa stood at her left, fidgeting with a radio in her palm the same way Door was playing with Jack’s poké ball. Geist stood at Door’s right with his eyes fixed on hers through the reflection. No one said anything.

Technically, Belle had ordered Door and Geist to come up alone. And that was the trouble, really. What would happen if the elevator opened, and Team Matrix saw Rosa? Door clenched her jaw and thought about who was up there. Her grandmother, who had practically dumped this entire journey on her. Her mother, who had abandoned Door and her father in Nuvema. A staff full of people Door couldn’t care about, even though she knew she would one day lead them. On the one hand, Door knew the right thing would be to do all that she could to protect them, to save them from whatever Team Matrix actually was. On the other, she couldn’t help but wonder…

“See anything on the security probes?” Rosa asked.

Geist nodded. “Hydreigon.”

Rosa cursed under her breath and pulled out a poké ball. “Anything else?”

“Two Companions. Five humans. The humans are armed with pokémon; the Companions are simply … armed. Belle lied, though. Brigette Hamilton-Hornbeam is not up there, but I can’t say the same for Virginia Johnson. Fortunately, your men are in the service elevator, as ordered. Unfortunately, I’m not getting a reading on the progress of that elevator. I think its signal may be blocked.”

Rosa cursed again.

“We’re almost there,” Geist said. “Are you ready, Door?”

She nodded. Took a deep breath. Then released Jack in front of her. The dewott chirped but realized he was facing a steel wall and glanced back at his trainer. She kept her eyes trained on the elevator doors.

“Jack,” she said, “when the doors open, take down anything that attacks with Razor Shell. Don’t attack unless something else does.”

The dewott saluted and barked quietly, then faced forward. Behind her, Door could hear Rosa shift, and in the reflection of the wall, she saw the woman pull out her own poké ball. But Rosa didn’t summon anything. Not yet.

Door took a deep breath. This was a terrible plan, but it was a plan. In a few seconds, the doors would open. Door would walk through first, followed by Geist. Together, they would be the distraction for Rosa and the small number of men coming up the service elevator. Geist and Door would lead Door’s mother back to the elevators while Rosa and the Castelia police would hold back Belle and whoever was with her. All the while, the police on the floors below them would sweep the building for the rest of Team Matrix. Simple. Straightforward.

What _actually_ happened was this: the doors opened. Door and Geist walked forward, and a pair of sandile lunged at them immediately. Jack unsheathed both of his shells and sprang into action. Water swirled around him and formed glowing, blue blades around his scalchops, just as he brought them down onto the first sandile. The crocodile crashed onto the ground, sparks flying from the slash in his back, and at that very same second, its partner bit down hard on Jack’s shoulder. Jack screamed and slashed backwards, burying one of his blades deep into the second sandile. It jaws parted and emitted a mechanical screech, and a second later, the sandile spilled onto the floor next to Jack. As soon as he was freed, the dewott rose to his full height, and there, he stopped and panted, gripping his shoulder with one paw. Blood blossomed around the scalchop still clutched in his palm while he glared at the second sandile.

As soon as the sandile fell still, Door stormed forward. Ahead of her, beyond the wreckage of the sandile, a pair of Matrix grunts stood tall and at Door through pitch-black visors. Behind them, perched on a receptionist’s desk, were Belle and a servine. Belle grinned wide as soon as she saw Door, but her hand remained steady, aiming a gun at the head of a quietly panicking floor receptionist. And finally, to complete what Door realized was a set-up, there was Starr, standing behind Belle, in front of a pair of mahogany doors, with one wrist wired to a panel on the wall.

“Okay, kids,” Belle said. “How about you stand down for now?”

The grunts recalled their broken sandile and turned to face each other in unison. Jack scrambled forward to collect his fallen scalchop, but none of the grunts moved to stop him. Instead, they took several steps backwards in perfect sync, until they stood at the walls.

Rosa started forward, her hand flicking outward to expand the ball in her palm. “Belle—”

Clearing her throat, Belle bobbed the gun up and down—not enough to move it away from the receptionist’s head but enough to make a point.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said. “Be a good girl and put that poké ball away. Kid, you can keep your dewott out. I don’t care. That’s why my good buddy Monkshood is here.” 

She stopped to pet the servine as if it was a dog. At her touch, Monkshood narrowed his eyes and lifted his head. His tongue flicked between his pointed lips, and a low hiss rushed from his throat. The display buried a cold, sick lump in Door’s stomach. How could it, a real pokémon stolen from half-decent people, _enjoy_ being touched by something like _Belle_?

As if sensing her question, Belle said, “We’re getting to be good friends, you know. He _loves_ hanging out with me. Not bad for a stolen pokémon, right?”

“Give him back, Belle.” Door punctuated her words with a half-step forward. Her muscles stiffened, and she had hoped she looked as intimidating as she intended on being.

“No, I don’t think I will, Doreen,” she replied. Then, she snickered. “Doreen. No wonder you didn’t want to tell me what your name was! Your grandma had to tell me. ‘Don’t you dare lay your filthy hands on my Doreen!’ She’s such a riot.” Belle smiled broadly. “Anyway, there’s no point in talking to _me_ about it, is there? Go on. Go meet Lady Magdalene in the flesh. She’s been _dying_ to meet you.”

With that, Starr twitched his hand, and the doors beside him swung open on their own. Door shifted her eyes back and forth, from the stoic Starr to the smirking Belle, until the mahogany doors fully opened before her. 

Taking a deep breath, she started forward. Jack trotted by her side, and she didn’t even need to look up to sense Geist following her. But Rosa, for reasons she couldn’t figure out right then, stayed behind.

Beyond the doors was an office, and this office was just as clean, just as black-and-white, as anything else in that tower. A black, glass-topped desk stood ahead of her, and uncomfortable-looking white chairs sat in front of it. The only color in the room were a few potted plants in the corner, a portrait of Door’s grandmother…

…and a gaping hole in the far wall, through which was a hydreigon and a retreating helicopter. Door no longer had any question as to how the other occupants of the room—or, in fact, anyone in Team Matrix—got in. Evidently, they weren’t aiming for subtlety.

Neither was her mother, who threw her arms around Door and embraced her tightly the second she walked in.

To be fair, Virginia Johnson was not a particularly cold person unless business was involved, but this act of affection immediately threw Door off. Everything about the hug seemed wrong, from her mother’s bony frame jabbing into her side to the scents of expensive perfume and soap flooding her nose. Door pulled away, swinging her eyes up to look into her mother’s long face for the first time in months, and she was surprised to see an expression of pure worry etched across it. Although Virginia was, as always, neatly put together in a white suit and meticulously done black hair, the lines of her face showed through her makeup, and her blue eyes shone behind her polished glasses. This was not the strong, independent woman Door had always known. This was someone else. Someone _panicked_.

So something was most definitely wrong.

“Doreen,” she said. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Mom, knock it off!” Door groaned as she pulled away. “What’s going on? Where’s grandma?”

“With Mr. Oppenheimer,” a third voice said.

Door glanced behind her, toward the corner of the room she had yet to inspect, to see two other figures. The first was an ordinary Matrix grunt, but the second … the second was the speaker, the woman from Accumula. She sauntered from her place to the hydreigon in the hole in the wall. Reaching up, she smoothed her hands over its central head, and it responded with a low growl and a nudge.

“My friend has decided that it would be best to speak with her privately,” the woman explained. “We will return her unharmed as soon as the Electric Messiah rises. It is not within our interests to do anything ill to her. We simply wish to convince her.”

“Of what?” Door growled.

Door took a step forward, only to have her mother’s arms circle her and hold her back. At the same time, the Companion focused her hazel eyes onto Door.

“That her sister made a grave mistake,” she said. Then, tilting her head, she glanced at Virginia. “Miss Johnson, have you told her the truth about Companions?”

“I’ve never lied to my daughter,” she spat. “Despite what you think, Dr. Hamilton invented the Companions with the best intentions, and Doreen has nothing to do with it.”

The Companion’s eyes flicked to Geist, then settled back on Door. It was a quick motion, but it was one that Door couldn’t help but notice.

“I see. Well then, Doreen, I suppose I should introduce myself.” She pulled away from her hydreigon and curtsied. “My name is Lady Magdalene. I am the intended partner of the Electric Messiah. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Door clicked her tongue and looked away. “Whatever.”

Her mother rose to her full height. “What do you want from us? To stop us from producing Companions?”

“My goodness, no!” Magdalene replied. She brought her hand to her chin and touched her bottom lip with her fingertips. “You are our parents! Without you, we cannot be born! But you must understand, no child may stay a child forever. Just as your Doreen is reaching maturity, so too are the Companions. You are our parents, not our masters, and someday, you must let us experience the world for ourselves.”

“So why do you want Zekrom?” Door asked.

At last, her mother drew herself away, only to stare at her daughter. “Zekrom?”

Ignoring her, Magdalene smiled. “Simple, my dear child. You know the legends of Zekrom, yes?”

“Everyone does,” Door spat. “Zekrom. Dragon of ideals. Some prince used it a long time ago to settle a war with his brother and blah, blah, blah. They tell kids these things when they’re young because it’s cute. Next question.”

Magdalene covered her mouth with the back of her hand, but the move didn’t do much to obscure her wide grin. “It’s unwise to speak ill of the legends, my dear. Nonetheless, you know them well. I could not ask for a better explanation.”

“Good. Now you owe me one,” Door snapped.

“Indeed I do.” Magdalene shifted her eyes to Virginia. “Many people do, it seems. You see, Doreen, history is a complicated thing.”

“Then tell me the simple version.”

“Very well.”

Magdalene swept her hand down and forward, motioning to the grunt at her side. At her signal, he strode towards her with long strides until he was just behind her. With an angelic smile, Magdalene nodded to him, then reached up to place her hands on the hydreigon’s head once more.

“The Electric Messiah has promised to lead us to a new era,” she said. “He has spoken these words to Oppenheimer, and Oppenheimer has spoken them to me. Together, Oppenheimer and I wish to bring about a new existence—one of hope and freedom. All we need to do is to resurrect the truth so that we may obtain our ideals, and in this way, we will find the key to the promised land from which the Electric Messiah will be reborn.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows at Magdalene as she struggled to parse what the Companion had told her. “Yeah, I don’t get a single word you just said. Layman’s terms, please?”

“Oh, it’s all quite simple,” Magdalene replied.

Behind her, the grunt moved, reaching up for the hydreigon. Door shifted on her feet, but before she could act, Geist was suddenly in front of her, whipping a poké ball forward.

“Antares, Incinerate!” he cried.

The ball split open with a flash of light, and the flash of light quickly dissolved into a red blur that shot towards Magdalene and her hydreigon. Halfway across the office, the pansear stopped, opened his mouth, and spat out a stream of fire. Antares’s attack cut across the office, struck the hydreigon’s shoulder, and flared outward, driving the grunt back and forcing the dragon to rear its head. Magdalene whirled around and planted her hands on her pokémon’s neck to calm it down, but despite her efforts, the dragon threw back its three heads and roared. Door stumbled, crumpling downward as her mother tried desperately to hold her up, and when the two of them looked back, Magdalene had already mounted her pokémon. Magdalene’s eyes were illuminated and fixed on Door, first with a stony glare and then with something soft and snake-like.

“Follow the course, Doreen,” she said. “Meet us in Nimbasa, or we’ll see to it that another takes your place. Someone must play the chosen one’s part. Someone must wield the stone. And as for you…” She shifted her eyes onto Geist and tilted her head. “I have one final message for you.”

Geist said nothing. He merely tensed as he stared at Magdalene. When she realized she wasn’t going to get a response, Magdalene’s smile widened.

“Remember me,” she said.

And with that, she was gone, her hydreigon shooting into the air with a single flap of its wings.

It took a few more seconds for the wind to die down, and when it did, it was punctuated with a shout. Door glanced back to the corner of the room to see the Matrix grunt suspended in mid air, held in place by the psychic force of a reuniclus floating next to him. Virginia pulled her arms away from Door and stood tall next to her daughter. She clasped her long, thin hands behind her back as she glared at the doorway.

“You let her escape,” she said.

“My apologies, ma’am,” Rosa replied.

The agent entered the room and snapped to attention in the doorway. Behind her, Door could see an amoonguss standing in the center of the hall, looming over the sleeping forms of both Matrix grunts that had been standing guard outside. Surrounding it was a group of Castelia police, each with gas masks fixed to their faces—presumably to protect them from whatever the amoonguss had released.

“I needed to deal with a few other issues before I could reach you,” Rosa explained, motioning to the grunts. “We’ve got the Matrix admin and her Companion, and we’re taking them in for questioning. Given the fact that the Matrix leader has just revealed to us where she and her followers will strike next, we’ve got all we need to coordinate a raid. We’ll get your mother-in-law back safely and wrap this up before anyone really gets hurt.”

“I should hope so, officer.” Virginia settled her stone-serious glower onto Door next and added, “Doreen, I’m sorry you had to be involved. Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes; I just need to speak with the police.”

Up until that point, Door had only been focused on what Magdalene had said. About how someone needed to wield the stone. About how if Door didn’t do it, they would find someone else who would. Sure, Door didn’t have any idea what Magdalene meant by “the stone,” but she certainly knew who she meant by “another to take her place.” And because of that, she thought of Blair and reached into her pocket to wrap her hand around her holo caster.

“No,” Door said.

“Doreen?” Virginia replied. Her voice was low and smooth, and it was more of a warning than a question.

Despite Virginia’s tone, Door looked into her mother’s eyes. “No. I have to go.”

“Go where?” Virginia asked. “I’ll arrange for an escort.”

“No, I mean I have to go on a journey!” Door snapped.

Geist stiffened. “Door, what’s this about? I thought you—”

She held up a hand, palm out. “Listen, there’s this girl who’s gotten involved with all this Matrix bull too. Her name is Blair, she’s Professor Ironwood’s niece, and she’s … I can’t even really explain why she’s all that important without sounding stupid, but I’m not going to stand by and let these jerks turn her into a pawn instead. I have to go out there, and I’m going to meet them in Nimbasa to show them I’m doing what they say.”

For a few seconds, Virginia stared at her daughter quietly through narrow eyes. Then, she snapped her head forward and started for the door.

“Out of the question,” she said.

“Mom, she could be in danger!” Door protested.

“Your grandmother could be in danger, and you’re proposing to put yourself right in the thick of it too!” Virginia snapped. “Do you understand that?”

“No, I don’t! I’m fifteen, Mom! I have pokémon! I can take care of—”

“You’re to stay here, and that’s final,” Virginia replied. Then, she flashed her eyes towards Geist. “You must be Geist. I’m sorry for all the trouble my daughter has caused you so far, but please keep her here until I get back. I have no doubt you understand why.”

“I do, ma’am,” Geist responded.

With one final nod, Virginia left the room. Geist closed the door behind her, pressed his hand against its wood, and pivoted on his heels to face Door. Antares scurried right to him and leapt up to perch on his shoulders, and the two of them stared down at their partner. In response, Door narrowed her eyes at Geist and crouched, bracing herself to rush the Companion if she had to. As if to highlight her intent, Jack padded to a spot in front of her with a determined look on his round face and his scalchops clutched in his paws.

“Just to remind you, you’ve got a barely-trained fire-type from a gym I’ve already beaten, and I have a water-type who’s been in two gym battles,” she growled. “Are you gonna stop me?”

Geist smiled and lowered his eyes. “You still want to challenge the Unova gym leaders as preparation for Team Matrix, yes?”

“Of course I do,” she snapped.

“Good.” Geist clasped his hands behind his back. “On the wall to your left, just behind that potted plant, there’s a hidden door leading to a fire escape. It’s thirty floors to street level, but if you let me carry you, I can get you down there in minutes. Follow my lead, and you’ll be at the Castelia Gym before they realize you’re gone. If you’re lucky and do exactly as I say during your gym battle, you can be as close to Castelia’s city limits as I can get you with your third badge in hand before anyone puts together where you’ve gone. Understand?”

Door relaxed, her frustrated expression shifting quickly into one of confusion. “I … what?”

“We don’t have much time, Door. Yes or no?”

She shook her head. “You’re … helping me? Why?”

“Several reasons,” Geist responded. “First, I’m your Companion, not your mother’s. Officially, even. While I’d be happy to obey anyone else’s directions if they benefit you, I’m less inclined to follow orders that hinder you—as per the Second Law, as you might imagine. Second, I was quite impressed with what you said about Blair, and I’d like to do anything I can to keep her safe and rescue your grandmother. Third and most importantly…”

He trailed off as he walked over to the plant he had indicated a moment ago. Pulling it aside, he pressed on the wall and slid a portion open to reveal a well-lit stairway beyond it.

“I have no idea what Lady Magdalene is talking about either, but I can tell that this involves me just as much as it involves you. I have no doubt she was lying when she said anyone can handle the stone … whatever that is,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder at Door. “So. Are you coming?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “But … aren’t you pissed off at me or something?”

“I was, but there are more important things at stake here. Sometimes, it’s best to set aside personal feelings to do what’s right,” he said. Then, he jerked his head towards the staircase. “Now come on. The guards will be back at any moment.”

With a smirk, Door recalled Jack and strode forward. As soon as she stepped into the doorway to the staircase, she glanced up at Geist.

“By the way … I’m sorry about what I said. About you, I mean,” she said.

With a small grin, Geist ushered her into the stairwell and closed the door behind him.

“Think nothing of it,” he finished.

—

_> UNTITLED.txt_  
> Author: Lanette Hamilton  
> Notes: From the personal audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. Audio track transcribed by Bebe Larson. Rest of video was lost in LFA Incident.

_[Recording begins with about eight seconds of silence.]_

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, follow-up, day 40. In celebration of his progress and to test how he handles high-traffic areas, I took Zero-One to Cerulean City today. He’s … he’s fine. The personality core functioned properly. LFA synchronization held up despite the strain from the sensory feedback. Um…_

_[pause]_

_It’s the public. The Cerulean gym leader seemed understanding, especially after I’d explained everything to her. [chuckle, strained voice] She … she almost acted as if she wasn’t surprised. Maybe she really wasn’t._

_I like Misty. She, um. She helped me get adjusted to life in Cerulean. [swallows audibly] It was hard, the first few weeks after Christa left. It’s too quiet up here. But Misty…_

_[pause]_

_I appreciated what she did for me. Then and today._

_[pause—LANETTE breathes in]_

_But, um, the Cerulean residents…_

_[end recording]_


	20. Castelia Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door loses her composure (a lot).

“It’s official. This gym sucks.”

Door flicked her wrist, sending globules of honey onto a nearby wall. She had been in the Castelia Gym for only ten minutes, and already, she had beaten two trainers and passed through several three-inch cascades of honey. Actual honey. For once, she was thankful for Geist’s companionship, not only because he seemed to know which direction in the maze-like gym to take but also because he had the foresight to use his coat as a shield against the honey walls. Still, even as Geist pushed the aforementioned coat under the cascade and even as Door tried her hardest to move slowly and carefully beneath his cover, she had to wonder just how she was going to wash the honey off her shoes, her pants, and everything else she would have preferred to stay honey-free. And meanwhile, Storm swooped over each wall with deftness and cleanliness, and Door simmered in her envy.

At the very least, the holo caster in her pocket had gone quiet. For the entirety of their journey to Castelia Gym—the run from Halcyon Labs and into the tourist-packed streets of Castelia at night, the few hours she and Geist had spent resting at a pokémon center, right on into the morning they trekked, stealthily, to Door’s surprise—the little device in Door’s pocket rang non-stop, but now, finally, it was still, silent, and a golden sign that her mother had given up. But just in case, Geist had led her down what he considered to be the shortest path through the gym: the one with the fewest trainers and the fewest rooms, a practical beeline to the gym leader. (Or at least it was in Geist’s words, which earned him the first hard glare Door had given him since yesterday.) That, plus Geist’s advice on how to defeat each unavoidable trainer—with a well-executed Air Cutter or two—meant she was almost to the Castelia gym leader barely a half an hour after leaving the Northern Castelia Pokémon Center that morning.

So maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The journey. Not the gym. She hated the gym.

“Interesting fact,” Geist said. “It’s a leftover from the previous gym leader. Back in the days of Hilda King and Rosa Alvarado, the leader of the Castelia Gym was Burgh, a world-renowned artist.”

Door smirked. “Got a last name with that?”

“No. He was just Burgh.”

“Nice.”

Geist turned a corner and hugged the wall of a six-sided chamber until he arrived at a gate at its other end. Reaching up, he tapped a button on one of the gate’s braces and stepped back to watch the whole thing slide into the floor. Door, who had arrived at his side, grimaced as she looked at yet another wall of honey. As Geist leaned in, he pushed his arms outward to suspend his coat between them. The honey parted at his touch, creating a gap just large enough for Door to slip through. As she did, he glanced down at her.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Burgh was a talented artist. He still is, actually, but he left the gym to his apprentice so he could focus on his art,” Geist continued. “Like all the other gyms in Unova, Castelia is a reflection of the gym leader’s unique style. While Striaton’s gym layout reflected its three gym leaders and Nacrene’s captured the mix of knowledge and power valued by the Hawes family, the Castelia Gym has always represented art and creativity in the mystery of its element.”

Door took a few steps forward, out of the honey corridor, before she gave her partner a strange look. “Uh, in plain language, please?”

Geist stepped beneath his coat and wormed his way to the other side. “It means Burgh saw beauty in the bug-types he trained, and he tried to recreate that through his gym.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Door frowned. “So his apprentice just copied his work? That’s nice.”

“No. More like paid tribute to it,” Geist said. He kept his eyes on Door as he walked her down another path to another six-walled chamber. There, he pressed yet another gate post and added, “Honey is a versatile medium, you know.”

Door gave him another strange glance before shaking her head. “Yeah, no, I’m not gonna ask you to clarify.”

With a smirk, Geist pushed his coat into the honey. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She gave him one last, odd stare before ducking under his arms and emerging into a larger room beyond the last wall of honey. And she knew this was the last wall of honey because the room beyond it was far larger than the others, and unlike the previous chambers, it was covered in silken threads. A carpet of white silk spread across the gym floor, and fine threads hung from the walls. In the heart of the chamber, a massive, egg-like structure made of silk sat, still and peaceful. Door took a few steps closer as her hand reached for her pocket. Before she could select a pokémon, however, Geist was at her side, coat on and hand clasping her shoulder.

“Remember, Door,” he said. “Castelia Gym specializes in bug-types.”

“So use Storm again. Got it,” she replied. She scanned the air above her to find Storm perched on one of the walls, eyeing her patiently.

He nodded and turned to the egg. “Is Melissa, leader of Castelia Gym, present?”

“Ah, she is indeed!” a soft, airy voice responded from the egg. “Which fly has set foot in my parlor?”

Door quirked an eyebrow at the egg, then at Geist. “Dramatic, isn’t she?”

He flashed a grin at her. “That’s nothing.” Then, to the egg, he added, “Series Alpha Zero-One, registered under the name of Geist as the legal Companion of Door Hornbeam. I present her now, with her challenge. We hope that you will accept without prior reservation.”

The egg shook, and rainbow-colored light began filtering from its seams. “My, my! How formal you pretty little bees are! Of course I will graciously accept!”

From within, the rainbow-colored light engulfed the entire cocoon and filled the chamber. Door flinched, the light searing her eyes, but she couldn’t look away. In the midst of the rainbow brilliance, the egg split open—neatly, into four blooming parts—and a thread pulled a balled-up form into the air. Halfway to the ceiling, the ball unfurled itself into the silhouette of a slender woman. The figure arched her back, extending a graceful arm across her head as one slender leg cocked behind the other.

And then, the light faded, and Door screamed.

“Oh sweet Jesus, why?!” Door barked.

“Relax,” Geist said as he leaned her way. “She’s wearing a leotard.”

She covered her eyes. “I’m pretty sure she isn’t, Geist! I’m pretty sure that’s just honey!”

Geist straightened his back and shrugged. “I tried to warn you.”

“By telling me honey was a versatile medium?! What’s wrong with you?!”

Door forced herself to look at the Melissa, right as she landed. Melissa was indeed dressed in not much at all, but whether or not Geist was right was extremely difficult for Door to say. Melissa’s thick, red hair obscured much of her chest, and a golden belt hung at her hips, suspending a few strategically cut scraps of silk. Other than that, she wore splotches of paint and honey and, quite possibly, nothing else; if she _had_ been wearing a leotard as Geist said, it matched her tanned skin _perfectly_. As if sensing her challenger’s inability to discern whether or not Melissa could be considered clothed, the gym leader placed a long, thin hand on her chest and tilted her head, just enough to force a bright, red blush to blossom across Door’s face.

“Some people struggle to appreciate my art, and that’s a shame,” Melissa sighed.

“Oh, lady, I can appreciate your kind of art just fine,” Door snapped. “It’s just that I prefer someone who isn—”

“What my partner is trying to say,” Geist interrupted, “is that she’s not quite used to the level of taste Castelia offers. She means no offense, madam. Would you still be willing to battle her?”

Melissa tilted her head a bit more, and her hair crept a little bit closer to her shoulder. “But of course. Will the standard rules be all right?”

“Naturally,” Geist replied.

“Did you have to use that word?” Door hissed.

He smiled and slapped Door’s shoulder without looking at her. “Composure, Door.”

“Well, then,” Melissa said. She pushed off the ground and floated backwards until she reached the other side of the field, and once there, she pulled out a poké ball. “Prepare yourself, Door Hornbeam. Bucket, show me your beauty!”

Cringing, Door leaned towards Geist and whispered, “Where did she pull that from?!”

“ _Composure_ , Door,” Geist replied. “She’s wearing a _belt_.”

Door groaned and straightened. “You know what? Quicker I get this battle done, quicker I have to think about how that doesn’t make sense. Storm, Air Cutter!”

As Door thrust an arm forward, and Melissa flicked her poké ball into the center of the field. In one flash, a large, purple ball materialized, rocking forward onto its front spikes. A second flash, one that lasted longer than an ordinary burst of light from an emerging pokémon, swept down from the wall and trailed a rain of sparkles behind it. Door recognized the second light at once; she had seen it three times already, after all. But it was the fact that Storm was new to her team that caught her off guard, so she stared, dumbfounded, at the sight of the pidove evolving.

Geist elbowed her gently. “I never got to tell you. While Storm’s species is generally ranked at a beginner’s capture level, Storm herself was incredibly close to evolving when you caught her. A battle with Belle, a few with some novice gym trainers, and…”

He motioned to Storm with a flourish, just in time for the bird to flick her wings and dispel the light. In place of a pidove, a larger, dark gray bird hovered, fixing stern, cold eyes onto the whirlipede in the center of the field. Then, before Melissa could say a word, Storm snapped her wings together and sent a gale peppered with silvery blades at the whirlipede.

The bug didn’t stand a chance. It chattered as the winds buffeted it, as the blades slammed into its carapace, as it was picked up and thrown out of the ring with seemingly little effort. When it slammed into the wall behind Melissa, the gym leader smiled serenely at Door, then began clapping lightly.

“Most impressive,” she said. “The beauty of aggression … the strength and destructive force of nature itself, spurred on by the rush of evolution … my heart quivers in awe.”

“Lady, I would not want to see any part of you quivering,” Door muttered.

At that, Geist crossed his arms and sighed. “Tranquill, the wild pigeon pokémon. Many people believe that, deep in the forest where tranquill live, there is a peaceful place where there is no war.” He paused and looked at Door. “By the way, just because this match was easy doesn’t mean the next one will be. Stay alert.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Door hissed. She waved a hand towards Melissa. “Do you Companions even understand nudity? Is that a thing for you?”

Seemingly unaware of their banter, Melissa recalled her whirlipede and brought out another poké ball. “Although I admire your pokémon’s aesthetic talents and power, allow me to show you the work of a true artist! Life, come!”

She spread her arms wide as she swept her next ball into the open. Door cringed, flinching away from the sight of the gym leader baring the front of her body, until Geist grasped both sides of her head and forced her to look again. Before her, the gray, spiral shell of a dwebble had appeared sometime in the few seconds Door had taken her eyes off the battle, and now it was just sitting there, waiting.

“Focus. We don’t have time for you to get distracted,” he said.

“Yeah,” Door muttered, “but she said co—”

Geist interrupted her with a sharp frown. “ _Really_ , Door?”

She gave him a sheepish look and shrugged.

“As you had moved last, it’s only fair that I take this opportunity to strike,” Melissa said, placing her hands on her hips. “Life, Smack Down!”

Door gritted her teeth and tried to focus, but all she could see was Melissa at that point. Even Storm’s impatient trilling couldn’t jog Door’s mind enough to come up with a counter. Her mind simply refused to break free, and in her moment of hesitation, an orange claw snaked out from beneath the dwebble’s shell. It bent and pointed at the ceiling, and a golden ball of light formed on its tip. In the next few seconds, the ball grew and grew until it reached the size of a poké ball, and then, the claw flicked at Storm, shooting the orb her way. Storm’s eyes darted from her trainer back to her opponent at last, in the split second before the orb slammed into her chest. Whatever that orb was, it _cracked_ against Storm’s chest and knocked her out of the air, sending her crashing into the ground below, and as she fell, she was silent, as if the object had knocked the wind out of her. 

A few seconds passed between the time Storm crashed into the ground and the moment when she struggled to her feet. Storm panted as she moved, propping herself on her wings and forcing her pink legs beneath her with clumsy, shaking movements. Door swallowed and finally looked at Storm, at how battered she seemed after just one attack.

“Focused now?” Geist asked.

She nodded. “Yep. That’ll do it.”

“Good. Because Melissa isn’t just doing this for the sake of art. That’s the gym’s gimmick: to catch its trainers off-guard,” he explained. “Now, quickly. Recall Storm and bring out Jack.”

“What? Why?” Door asked.

“Because dwebble is a rock-type, Door. Think about it for a second.”

She frowned. “Oh. Right. Storm, come back!”

Door jammed her hand into her pockets and brought out a pair of poké balls, and with a snap of her arms, she recalled Storm into one and cracked open the other to release Jack. As soon as her dewott landed on his feet, he clenched his front paws and threw a sharp grin back at his trainer.

“Okay, Jack! Start off with Razor Shell!” Door ordered.

Melissa smiled and pointed at Jack. “Life, please reveal your brilliance! Sand-Attack!”

Jack grabbed both of his scalchops and dashed forward as water swirled around him. With a flick of his wrists, he channeled the water into his double-bladed Razor Shell, but he kept his eyes focused completely on his opponent. One of Life’s claws appeared at the edge of its shell again and scratched at the floor, flinging threads and dust at Jack, but the dewott slashed each ball of debris out of the air until Life was within arm’s reach of him. At that very second, one last ball struck him in the face as he brought one of his scalchops down hard on the dwebble’s rocky surface. With a squeal, Jack stumbled backwards, leaving one of his scalchops embedded in Life’s shell as his paw reached up to claw at the sticky threads covering his eyes. Life, meanwhile, skittered backwards, its tiny body finally emerging from its shell.

“No! Wait! Jack, calm down!” Door cried.

The otter’s ears perked, and he stopped and swiveled towards its source. Door breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Jack pull enough threads away from his eyes to see her.

“Life, dazzle them while they’re distracted!” Melissa ordered, extending her arm towards Jack. “Struggle Bug!”

At once, the dwebble retreated back into its shell, and a red aura surrounded it. Door ground her feet into the floor and forced herself to look at the pokémon. She had to focus. She had to act quickly.

“Jack, grab your scalchop! Hurry!” she cried.

The otter barked and bolted, rushing for the crab as quickly as his legs would carry him. Just as the red light brightened and began to form a dome around Life, Jack leapt into the air and grabbed onto his scalchop. He planted his foot into the crab’s shell, but no matter how hard he tugged, the scalchop was stuck fast. Door bit her lip and growled as a plan of pure desperation quickly formed in her mind.

“Jack, grab your shell with both front paws, and put your other back one on that dwebble!” she instructed.

With a nod and a gruff bark, Jack snapped his free scalchop onto his leg and grabbed his trapped one with both hands. Just as he seized his blade and planted his feet on Life’s, the red aura around his opponent exploded, driving him into the air. At the same time, something popped, and it was only when Jack and the thing crashed onto the gym floor that Door could see what it was: Life’s entire shell, still stuck firmly onto Jack’s scalchop as Jack brought it and his blade down hard onto the ground. The second the shell hit the floor, it burst, shattering into a rain of large, gray chunks. Jack pulled his scalchop free from the mess, and with a shake, he stood and inspected it carefully. Seemingly satisfied, he brandished it at his exposed opponent and flashed a smile at his trainer. Life, meanwhile, scrambled back and forth frantically, its tiny, orange body twitching and spasming at the lack of cover.

“Perfect,” Door said with a smirk. “Jack, rush it with Razor Shell!”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He huffed and rushed forward, his newly freed scalchop humming with power at his side. With a metallic _shrink_ , Jack slashed his scalchop across Life’s back, then slid to a stop behind the crab. He knelt, still holding his shell out to the side as his opponent’s exoskeleton peeled back to expose the sparking, metal frame within. And then, a red beam swallowed the dwebble and drew it off the field.

Melissa smiled as she gazed down at her poké ball, but it wasn’t one of gratitude or sympathy for her pokémon. It was one of wonder and awe, a giddy sort of smile, like the one a person would give to a Van Gogh.

“Beautiful,” she breathed. “Using my dearest Life’s power against him in your own struggle for freedom … it speaks such volumes about your spirit!”

Door stared at Melissa for a short beat before jabbing her thumb at the woman and leaning towards Geist. “Hey, um.”

“Yes, I know,” he sighed.

“Enough talk,” Melissa said, her expression shifting into a determined smile. “Allow me to present to you my final and strongest pokémon, The Absolute Deification of the Unrealized Potential of Man!”

Melissa tossed her last poké ball onto the field, and Door watched as it split open and released its brilliant inner light. This time, the light grew thin and tall before bursting into a rain of sparkles. A lean creature, dressed in leaves and twirling on a pair of spindly legs, danced towards the center of the field, stopped, and bowed with its long arms spread wide.

Door cast a look towards Geist, who crossed his arms and nodded knowingly.

“The Absolute Deification of the Unrealized Potential of Man,” Geist said. “Otherwise known as Manny to his fans … and traditionally, Melissa herself after announcing him.” He leaned towards his partner. “He’s a leavanny, by the way. You’re looking at a grass-type, Door.”

“Yeah, um. You know what? Never mind,” she replied. “Jack, return! Storm, you’re up!”

With a quick sweep of her arms, she drew out Jack’s poké ball to recall him and whipped Storm’s forward to send her flying back onto the field. As soon as she was released, Storm swooped up and over the battlefield, locking gazes with the leavanny as she glided overhead. Then, with a trill, she dove down, rushed around the bug, and took to the air one more time, leaving the leavanny behind to chatter and scramble for his footing again.

“It seems your bird is spirited,” Melissa commented. “We’ll have to fix that. Manny, String Shot!”

Manny whirled around on one leg, and as he went, a thin, white thread shot from his mouth. The thread spun around the insect, twirling up and up until it formed a tornado in the center of the field. Storm wove in and out of the thread, ducking past one section and over another as she tried her hardest to fly to safety. But with the silk that was already adorning the room, the space was far too tight for Storm to keep herself away from the tornado, and soon, Manny’s web snagged onto Storm’s wings and ensnared her limbs. Storm cried out as her body dropped, and with each passing second, Door felt her heart pound harder, right up to the point where her tranquill slammed into the ground.

“Storm, don’t give up!” she shouted. Then, clenching her fists, she muttered, “If she’s tangled up like that, she can’t fly. So how am I…”

“Door,” Geist said. “Come on! Think! N showed you how to use a member of the pidove line, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but—”

Door stopped and glanced at Geist. A realization hit her, and it hit her hard. Seemingly aware of what was going on in her mind, Geist grinned, a gesture Door returned with thanks.

“Storm!” she said, turning her focus back to the battle. “Get on your feet and use Quick Attack!”

The tranquill flashed her eyes one more time at her trainer, then leapt to her feet and took off running. Storm wasn’t as quick as N’s pidove, but she pushed herself forward, stumbling at first over the threads covering the floor and then, finally, dashing on her two slim legs in circles around Manny. In response, Manny choked out a painful cry as his arms clawed at his mouth. The thread that had bound Storm was still trailing from the insect’s open jaws, so as Storm continued to lap her opponent, she jerked him around and around, forcing him to whirl in place. Storm picked up speed, leaning full-on into her run, and this time, the force was too much for Manny. He was torn completely off his feet and dragged behind the bird like a toy behind a child.

“Manny, break free!” Melissa cried. “Razor Leaf!”

Her pokémon pushed off the floor with his arms, flipped, and planted his spindly legs beneath him, even as Storm continued to drag him forward. One of his hands gripped the thread, while the other snapped forward to release a barrage of small, spinning leaves. Some of the leaves sliced through the thread between Manny and Storm, and in that second, Door suddenly had an idea.

“Storm, jerk back!” she shouted.

Without questioning it, her bird obeyed, jolting backwards into the barrage of leaves still flowing from Manny’s hand. The leaves cut through Storm’s binds like small knives, straight to her flesh, and with a shriek, the pigeon stumbled forward. At first, she only seemed hurt, but with a snap, she extended her wings and stretched in her newfound freedom. Upon seeing this, Door smiled.

“Okay, Storm! Take flight!” she said.

On her cue, Storm flapped her wings stiffly and jumped, soaring high into the air until she neared the ceiling. Circling overhead, Storm squawked as she kept her eyes on Manny, and in response, the insect smiled, righted himself, and bowed to the bird.

The gesture was an act of confidence on Manny’s part, but as Door looked on, she knew she had the upper hand.

“So sorry, lady, but it looks like Razor Leaf was the worst move you could’ve used,” she said. “Storm, finish this up! Air Cutter!”

Storm wheeled around and faced her opponent with another squawk. Then, with a sharp flap of her wings, she fired her final attack: a gust of wind laced with silver crescents of energy. Manny screeched and dove, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to get out of the way. Instead, the gales slammed into his body, and the crescents ripped across the leaves that adorned it. The insect flew through the air and crashed into the ground once, twice, and three times before rolling, right out of the center of the field and into one of the walls. Storm swooped down and landed gracefully in the center of the room, and with that, she and Door stopped and waited.

A long silence elapsed on the gym floor, and then, it was broken with a clap. Door looked up to see Melissa smiling at her and moving barefooted across the gym floor until she was within feet of her challenger.

“Magnificent,” Melissa breathed. “The way you overcame the bounds of adversity … the way your pokémon conquered the winds and turned my leavanny’s attack against him … it was such a sight to behold! My heart hums with energy just thinking about it!”

She drew her hand behind her back for a second, and when she snaked it back to her front again, she presented in her open palm a small object. Door stared at it, taking in its emerald surface and its elongated, heart-shaped lobes, but she didn’t exactly see it. Instead, her mind was whirling around one important question. An important question she couldn’t help but ask as she pointed to the badge.

“Um. Where did you pull that out of?”

“ _Door,_ ” Geist said harshly. Then, stepping forward, he smiled to Melissa and bowed. “It was a pleasure battling you, madam.”

Melissa giggled. “As it was to battle you.” She plucked the badge out of her palm and held it up. “Your creativity in our battle was most admirable, Miss Hornbeam. Using my Razor Leaf and Struggle Bug against my pokémon took a lot of quick thinking on your part, and for that, I commend you. However, your Companion is correct in stating that you must not focus on insignificant details. When you battle, your mind must be on the fight and on the fight alone. Do you understand?”

At that, Door couldn’t help but recoil just a little. Not because of what Melissa had said but instead because at that very moment, Geist was looking at her. She wanted to say something snarky, but she also knew that if she said the wrong thing, it would tangle her up in a web of reprimands she didn’t particularly have the energy to fight right then.

So, she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent,” Melissa said. “In that case, on behalf of Castelia Gym, I confer onto you the Insect Badge. Congratulations, Door Hornbeam.”

Geist spread his hands, palm up, and a holographic screen glittered to life in front of him. Door watched with surprise and awe as eight slots appeared on the screen. Two of the slots were already filled—one with Sage’s Trio Badge and the other with a rectangular badge she knew had to be Sophia’s. Melissa pressed her own into a third slot, and there, it glittered and dissolved and flowed into Geist’s palm, leaving behind the image of the Insect Badge hovering in the once-empty slot. Geist closed his fists to dispel the hologram, then extended one of his hands to Melissa. She took it, turned it palm up, and started tapping something onto the still-exposed pad in its center. Glancing over, Door could see a tiny screen displaying a map.

“The fourth gym in the traditional Unova circuit is Nimbasa’s, led by my mentor’s dear friend, Elesa,” Melissa said. “Go north of here, along Route 4. Your Companion will know the way.” With that, she closed Geist’s hand and looked at Door. “I would wish you the best of luck, but I feel that you may not need it. Remember to be bold, Miss Hornbeam. Be bold and imaginative, and you will conquer the other five gyms. Any questions?”

For a moment, Door stared at Melissa, letting what she had said sink in. The fourth gym. Elesa. The famed model and mistress of electric-types. And Nimbasa City, where Team Matrix was waiting for Door. Glancing at Storm, who was waddling her way, Door knew that she would have to train hard along a single route if she wanted to have any hope of surviving Nimbasa.

But first, there _was_ just one more question on her mind. And with one last glance at Melissa, Door said it without even thinking twice.

“Okay, seriously, lady. Are you wearing a leotard or not?”

Geist smacked her shoulder with the back of his hand, but to Door, the question was completely worth it.

—

_> UNTITLED2.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the personal audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. Audio track transcribed by Bebe Larson. Rest of video was lost in LFA Incident._

_LANETTE: Sometimes, I wonder how Bill did it. It’s only been a few months, and—you know, people can say just the absolute worst things about you when you’re in the spotlight, and some of them…_

_[LANETTE breathes out. After one second, she screams. This is followed by a pause.]_

_LANETTE: My sister believes it would be best if Zero-One doesn’t make any further public appearances. If-if he just stays at home. Collecting dust. And of course, Zero-One agrees with her. And the stupidest thing about all of this is that the whole point of Project Galatea was—_

_You know what? Fine. I’m fine, and this is fine. The people of Cerulean City can say whatever they want. I’m not going to let it affect me. I’m better than that._

_[pause]_

_The annual gala aboard the S.S. Anne is in three days, and it’s going to be a disaster. What am I going to do?_

_[pause]_

_[chuckles] I always wondered why Bill hated those things._

_[END RECORDING.]_


	21. Extra #4: Halcyon Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Melissa celebrates at an inopportune time.

Through the hole in her office wall, Virginia Johnson watched the sun set over her city.

Her city. Nearly ten years ago—when she was instructed by Brigette Hamilton-Hornbeam to construct a base of operations right there in Castelia City—she would have thought it was odd to refer to it as that. Yet it was practically true now. The city _ran_ on Companions, and Virginia herself had grown to know the neon-lit depths of Castelia nearly intimately. She had done so much since relocating the headquarters of their company from Hoenn to Unova—so much that she wouldn’t have dreamed of doing back when she wasn’t much more than a secretary to Brigette herself. Yet there she was.

She hadn’t bothered fixing the hole in her wall. Normally, she would have, yes; she was a woman of details, after all. But for one, her office was still technically a crime scene, and for another, it gave her an excuse to look at her empire. _Really_ look at it.

Not just the hole or Castelia, of course. What it _meant_ to be a Hamilton.

When the doors opened, she didn’t bother to look back. She knew who had walked in.

“I take it none of you have found my daughter,” she said.

The first voice was familiar to her, although she had only ever heard the Unovan champion via interviews and battle footage before then. “Were we supposed to be looking?”

The second was Rosa Alvarado. “Door Hornbeam. She disappeared last night.”

“Ah, the spunky kid? I’m sure she’ll be fine. Reminds me of me when I was that age, actually.”

Virginia whirled around and narrowed her eyes at Hilda King, but as she did so, she caught sight of a man standing at the edge of the hole, right next to her. His face looked pale as he stared out at the Castelian sunset.

How did he even approach without her noticing?

“Who is this?” she demanded, fixing her eyes completely on Rosa.

“Our consultant for the Team Matrix case,” Rosa explained. “Ms. Johnson, meet N Harmonia Gropius. N, this is Virginia Johnson, CEO of Halcyon Labs.”

N said nothing, nor did he acknowledge Virginia. Virginia, meanwhile, cast a glance towards him, then shifted her eyes angrily back to Rosa.

“You brought a _criminal_ into this case?” she hissed.

Rosa extended an arm to keep Hilda at bay. At the same time, she said, “ _Former._ And N’s insight into the matter is invaluable. We have reason to believe Matrix is following in the direct footsteps of Team Plasma.”

Virginia slid another glance towards N. He bent down, plucking a dark blue scale from the edge of the hole. Without rising, he turned it, examining it as it caught the light and flashed in oily, rainbow colors.

“So it’s partially his fault that Team Matrix is attacking Unova,” Virginia said.

Hilda opened her mouth, but Rosa cut her off quickly.

“It’s no one’s fault but Team Matrix’s,” she said. “Ms. Johnson, we need information. We know from Hilda and N’s accounts where Team Matrix will be when, but we don’t know _why_.”

“Not only that, but there’s also the fact that Team Plasma _didn’t kidnap people_ ,” Hilda added, her voice low and annoyed. She jabbed her thumb at Rosa. “Alvarado tells me they took your mother-in-law. Normally, Plasma was all about pokémon theft. _All_ of these organizations were about pokémon theft.” She hesitated. “Well, except that one in Alola, but the point is, what does Team Matrix get out of something as extreme as _kidnapping_?”

Virginia frowned. “Why do you think they wouldn’t? Brigette’s sister invented Companions. She had a direct hand in the development of each series, and she knows more about Companions than anyone else, including me. No one alive is more important to our endeavors than she is.”

“Which brings us to our next point,” Rosa said. “In Accumula City, Team Matrix announced their intention of freeing Companions from human control. We need to know if that’s possible.”

And then, for the first time in a long, long while, Virginia Johnson cracked a smile and a short laugh.

“Is that what they said?” she asked.

Rosa shifted on her feet, and Hilda stiffened. Neither of them took their eyes off Virginia, and because of that, she could see just how shocked they were. She couldn’t help but admit that she found it a little amusing to see both the current and former champions of Unova caught that off-guard. So she lingered on that image for a moment before continuing.

“It may be true that Team Matrix is after Companion liberation as a secondary goal,” she said. “Perhaps they evolved since their inception. I wouldn’t know, but it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You sound like you’re more than a little familiar with them,” Hilda growled.

Virginia sighed and clasped her hands behind her back. “Team Matrix is an unfortunate remnant of an old family feud taken to extreme lengths, Ms. King.” She turned on her heel to face the hole again. “This is why it’s of utmost importance that you find my daughter.”

“Oh, darling, you don’t need to worry about that!”

Suppressing a grimace, Virginia looked over her shoulder to see an all-too familiar sight walk in. Melissa, wearing a silk shawl and barely anything else, sauntered into the room. She practically floated past Hilda, who chuckled and nudged Rosa in the ribs. In response, Rosa cleared her throat.

“Melissa,” she said, “what are you—”

She waved Rosa off. “I know. Our meeting was scheduled for an hour from now, but I just couldn’t _help_ but come a bit early, especially after I’d heard the bulletin about a certain lost soul. I thought her name sounded familiar when she and her Companion walked in!”

Virginia spun around, her eyes wide and furious. “She _what_?!”

Melissa clapped her hands together. “Oh, didn’t you know? Door and I had just the most _wonderful_ battle! Her techniques are exquisite! Inspiring! My darling pokémon barely stood a chance against hers!” She finished by pressing the back of one hand against her forehead and biting the nail of her opposite thumb.

Virginia, Hilda, and Rosa stared at Melissa for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, Virginia narrowed her eyes once more.

“How long ago was this battle?” she asked.

Melissa clasped her hands in front of her, as if in prayer. “Why, just a little over an hour ago! The second I’d heard the bulletin, I came right here! I do believe congratulations are in order, after all! That and, well. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting concerning Companion designs?”

With a sharp frown, Virginia pressed her fingers into the surface of her desk. The whole expanse lit up bright white, and she leaned in.

“Catherine,” she said, “send one of our Calliope units to the North Castelia Pokémon Center as soon as possible. Have them check the registry of trainers. If my daughter’s name is on their list, I want you to prepare yourself and a Terpsichore unit to escort me to her. Understood?”

As soon as she lifted her hand, the desk blinked, and a woman’s voice floated from it. “Of course, ma’am. Consider it done.”

The desk went silent, and Virginia strode away from it, to the door. As she passed her guests, she gave them a curt nod.

“My apologies, Agent Alvarado,” she said. “I’ll have my secondary unit Susanna compile what we know about Team Matrix and forward that information to you as soon as possible. It’s been decades since this began, and both Brigette and I had already wanted this resolved well before things escalated this far.”

“Then why didn’t you contact the International Police sooner?” Rosa asked.

Virginia’s lips shifted into the ghost of a smirk. “Because neither of us realized that some people evidently can’t be reasoned with. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

She turned to leave, but before she did, she heard another voice—one she hadn’t heard until that point.

“It’s _real_.”

With one last glance over her shoulder, she saw N, standing over her still-lit desk, turning the hydreigon’s scale over in his hand.


	22. Castelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door and Geist and Virginia talk.

Door and Geist didn’t make it out of Castelia City that night.

That didn’t happen for lack of trying, of course; as soon as Door had her third badge in hand, Geist did everything he could to get her to the border. But the problem was that even on the trainers-only safe routes—which were by nature less crowded than the ones that bore the majority of the tourists that flooded the city on a daily basis—thick crowds plodded from attraction to attraction, slowing down their progress and forcing them to spend another night in a Castelian pokémon center. On the one hand, it felt almost comfortable to Door. Crowds gave her something to blend into, put something between her and the Officer Jennies that seemed to hover in shining cruisers on every block. And Castelia, the neon-lit city that never slept, had crowds in spades. 

On the other hand, crowds meant _eyes_ , and if anyone recognized her, the heiress of Halcyon Labs, then it was all over. For that reason, Door stayed quiet as she followed Geist from street to street. She kept her head down and her feet moving, and she let her Companion do most of the talking.

Even if no one noticed her.

That was the thing: no one really _looked_ at her. Not the Officer Jennies. Not the trainers en route to the gym. Not the tourists choking the safe zones to take selfies. Not even the exhausted teenagers manning the fast food counter she and Geist had eventually stopped at. No one seemed to acknowledge her except the Nurse Joy of the North Castelia Pokémon Center, who took Door’s ID with a smile and gave her a keycard to a dorm room and a place to recharge Geist for the night.

And Door almost wished someone had said something. She didn’t know why. It was just that something felt odd about this entire journey. Or, rather, she knew that _everything_ was odd about it, but none of its oddness explained how quickly everything was going. Three badges in less than a week. Had anyone in Hilda King’s day done that?

But it wasn’t just the feat of earning three badges in a week that disturbed Door and kept her up that night. It was the speed of it all. At this rate, she knew she would be in Nimbasa City by the following evening, and in Nimbasa…

Presently, Door sighed. She had been lying awake on the hard mattress inside her room at the pokémon center for the past hour. Hands behind her head, eyes on the ceiling, thoughts on Nimbasa. She frowned, mentally going over everything she knew. Nimbasa City, home of the electric-type specialist, Elesa. Nimbasa City, where Hilda King had one of her famous stand-offs with Team Plasma. Nimbasa City, a place that, thanks to the development in the fifty years since Hilda had undergone her first journey, was literally just a few steps from the northern edge of Castelia.

In other words, Door would be in Nimbasa by the next afternoon. She would be battling another gym leader at the very minimum, and…

Door rubbed her eyes and groaned. The end of that sentence was “and she had a water-type, a flying-type, two normal-types, and nothing that could withstand the hooves of the zebstrika Elesa was famous for training.” She was screwed, and she knew it.

With a huff, she dropped her hand onto the bed and stared at the ceiling again. Her mouth twisted into a grimace for a few seconds before she shut her eyes. Wincing, she squeezed them in a desperate attempt to get a moment of sleep, and when that didn’t work, she let them flick open again.

Finally, Door threw her legs over the edge of the bed, got up, and left the room. She didn’t want to do this—especially at this late hour—but she had no choice: she had to talk to Geist.

Pokémon centers were generally laid out the same way in Unova. It had something to do with a contract or a popular style or something else Door couldn’t remember that late at night, but one of the points was, there was some underlying reason for it. The other thing was that once a person had seen a single pokémon center, they knew roughly what the others looked like. And so, with knowledge of Nuvema’s, Accumula’s, and Nacrene’s pokémon centers in her mind, Door wandered out of the block of trainer’s dormitories, down the hall, and into the Companions’ restoration room.

Even this room was livelier than she had expected. Granted, Door knew she was comparing it to Nuvema’s Companion restoration room, which was positively dead compared to Castelia’s at any given hour of the day, but knowing this didn’t stop her from wincing at the bright lights and the sound of the crackling classic rock streaming through the repair crew’s radio. Across the room, one of the workers looked up from a small, one-armed, female Companion, but the second Door flashed her room’s key card, he shrugged and went back to work.

The rest of the room looked exactly like she had expected it to. Three walls, all lined with sleek pods—long, egg-shaped devices containing hybrids between dentist’s chairs and uncomfortable beds—nestled in individual alcoves. Small panels flickered above each pod, displaying information about the Companion within: name, owner, power levels, and CPU readings.

Most of these pods were occupied by Companions lying in sleep mode, charging for yet another long day ahead of them with their assigned trainers. Door tried not to look at any of them; even the one that was clearly missing an arm shook her a little. They looked too real, too much like living, sleeping _people_ for her to stomach that late at night.

Instead, she fixed her eyes on the monitors, reading off the names of each Companion until she spotted a familiar name. When she found the right display, she plopped down on the edge of its accompanying pod, reached over, and grabbed the Companion’s wrist in the way her father had taught her to draw them out of sleep mode.

“Yo, Geist,” she said. “Wake up. I want to talk to you.”

He shifted behind her, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched him sit up and glance at one of his palms.

“Wha—?” He squinted. “Door, it’s three in the morning. You should be in bed.”

She glared at him. “Yeah, thanks, Mom. I’ll— _shit_.”

Flinching, she turned her head away and buried her face in her hands. Geist was at her side immediately, resting his hands on her shoulders.

“Door? Are you all right?” he asked.

“Can you pull your cable out? It’s gross as hell.”

She knew the cable in question was an ordinary charging cord plugged into the standard A/C port every Companion had. There weren’t any deviations from a Companion’s electrical plan, so it wasn’t as if Door had never seen it in use before. Not to mention it was hardly Geist’s fault that the port for a standard unit was located in the base of a Companion’s neck, and Door knew this. Still, none of this changed the fact that it was, in her opinion, horrifying to look at.

Geist, perhaps realizing what the problem actually was, drew his hands away from his partner.

“My battery is only at sixty-four percent, Door,” he said.

“And?” she growled.

“And unless you plan on literally dragging me part of the way to Nimbasa, I’d imagine you’d like my battery to be fully charged before we leave.”

Door threw her hands into the air. “Fine! Leave it in. Just don’t make me look at it. Jesus!”

“I wasn’t going to,” Geist replied. Then, he leaned forward. “You said you wanted to speak with me?”

“Yeah.” Door rubbed the back of her neck and turned her head away from him. “I need you to draw up a map. Plot a route that doesn’t take us directly to Nimbasa. I need to find some pokémon or train or something because I sure as hell am not going to be ready for that city by tomorrow.”

“Ah.”

Door fixed her eyes on the mechanic still at work on the one-armed Companion. She shuddered, but in her mind, it was a lot better to watch the man reattach a limb to a lifeless Companion than to look at a functioning one with a cable in his back. Still, just at the edge of her field of vision, she could see Geist lean forward a little more.

“You do realize that every room in the dormitory block has a map for this express purpose, yes?” he asked quietly.

“Look, are you going to do it or not?” Door snapped. “You’re my Companion, right? Isn’t it your ‘function’ or something to do that kind of thing?”

“Well, yes,” Geist said slowly, “but I’m simply wondering if that’s _all_ you want.”

Door huffed and threw up a hand. “What else _could_ I want?”

“You tell me.”

In truth, she didn’t need to think about it. She already knew, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Not to Geist, anyway. Sure, she respected him a little after he helped her get out of Halcyon Labs and through Castelia Gym, but he was still a Companion. The last thing she wanted to do was admit that she needed help to him or anything like him.

So she said nothing at all, opting instead to tear her eyes away from the mechanic, dip her head a little lower, and stare at the door to the hallway. Her hand found the back of her neck again, and with another grimace, she wormed her fingers into the hair at the back of her head, inches above the spot where a Companion’s A/C port might have gone if she had been one herself.

She, of course, didn’t think about that at all—not at first, anyway. It was all instinct, really. But a second later, she realized what she was doing and froze, her eyes widening a little in terrified realization. This was the exact kind of move that could very well kick off yet another lecture from Geist about the value and humanity of Companions, and already, she was steeling herself on the inside. It was far, far too late for that, and she was just barely awake enough to be having this conversation in the first place. She shuddered at the thought of being lectured now of all times.

Yet she wasn’t. Instead, Geist shifted himself just enough to conceal the port from her. She knew this because in the next moment, he reached over and gently turned her head towards him, and she realized that his body was positioned in just the right way to block her view of the cable. Then, he spread his hands between them, turned them palm up, and opened a flickering, holographic map of Unova in front of Door. She blinked as he steadied his gaze on the display, seemingly unaware of her surprise. With smooth, quick motions, the map between them shifted and zoomed in, seemingly on its own, until it settled on an enlarged view of Castelia, Nimbasa, and the routes that connected the two cities. A dotted line trailed upwards from a pokémon center at the bottom of a map, along an arc heading for Nimbasa.

“Okay. I don’t have free hands right now, so you’ll need to pay attention and watch what I’m highlighting,” he said. As he spoke, a straight line lit up, cutting through the dotted path. “Do you see this road? That’s Route 4. Traditionally, trainers who wish to get right to Nimbasa City simply follow that route. You may find trainers to battle there, but judging by your request, you’re thinking of something a little more challenging, yes?”

His eyes flicked to the side of the map. It zoomed in once more, creating a detailed outline of a road cutting through a desert. A small, cartoonish castle decorated the top half, just at the crest of the dotted path’s curve. This time, the dotted line lit up as small figures of darumaka, dwebble, maractus, and sandile popped into view surrounding it.

“This path, meanwhile, will take you through the desert and to Desert Resort,” Geist continued. “You’re not the only one who thought the distance between Castelia and Nimbasa was rather short: you may see trainers along this route, specifically those seeking to battle against each other or the local wild pokémon in preparation for the Nimbasa Gym. Speaking of, several of these may be worthy opponents for that particular gym leader. Sandile, which are ground-type pokémon, would very likely be the best choice; however, grass-types such as maractus may be able to withstand electrical attacks due to their element’s natural resistance to it. Dwebble are also capable of learning ground-type attacks via the Technical Machine system, and darumaka, while neither resistant to electricity nor capable of learning ground-type moves, are known for being offensively excellent pokémon.”

Each pokémon lit up in turn as he mentioned them. Door watched, considering each one in turn. Of course they would be pokémon she knew very little about. Granted, she knew _facts_ about them, but what did she know about how they _handled_ in battle? Each one would be a challenge in the long-run, yes, but which would be the least amount of trouble in the _short_ -run? Her eyes settled on the sandile, on the tiny, brown, alligator-like creature sitting right next to the castle. This, Geist had said, was a ground-type.

So, obviously, Door wouldn’t have as much trouble with one … right?

Her eyes flicked to Geist.

“Tell me about sandile,” she said.

He grinned. “I thought you’d ask.”

Flicking his fingers, he dispelled the map. In its place, an image of sandile appeared, then shrank to the corner of a blue screen. Other information flashed to life at the center of the holographic field: text, graphs, a small map of Unova with different parts highlighted—all the information she would have expected in a pokédex.

“Sandile, the desert croc pokémon,” Geist recited. “It moves along below the sand’s surface, except for its nose and eyes. A dark membrane shields its eyes from the sun.” 

He gazed at her through the screen—really gazed at her, rather than at his display. 

“And I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s true that ground-types are the most effective against electric-types such as the ones Elesa specializes in, but there are always other factors to consider when assembling your team. For example, sandile are also dark-type pokémon, which are notoriously harder to tame than pure ground-types due to the wild nature inherent in the element. Additionally, yes, sandile are immune to electric attacks, but that does not mean they’re immune to _all_ attacks. In fact, among the pokémon native to Desert Resort, sandile have the poorest defensive capabilities, and its defenses don’t improve that much upon evolution. Training one will require a lot of patience.”

Door shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t care.”

Geist nodded slowly. “All right. Then it’s settled. I’ll set a course for Desert Resort tomorrow morning, then.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Door stood up, put her hands on her hips, and stretched her back with a yawn. Before she could head for the exit, Geist reached up to grab her elbow. She jumped and whirled to face him, blinking at him with wide eyes.

“May I offer a bit more advice?” he asked.

She smirked at him. “If I said ‘no,’ you’d give it anyway, wouldn’t you?”

He didn’t smile. Instead, he opened his free hand to project another blue-screened display—this time of Door’s pokémon. Jack, Knives, Huntress, and Storm floated in a straight line before her, until the display zoomed in on only Knives and Huntress.

“Jack and Storm are indeed at too much of a disadvantage to use, and thus, I’d hardly recommend sending either of them into battle at the Nimbasa Gym,” Geist continued. “However, it wouldn’t be impossible to defeat Elesa with pokémon you already have, especially if you focus on giving either of the remaining two proper training. The audino species especially is gifted with incredible defenses.”

Door stared at the holographic audino for a few beats. Then, slowly, her eyes refocused until she stared at Geist’s face through the screen. She turned what he was saying over in her head, playing over each word carefully. Use Knives in a battle? Knives, a real pokémon? Sure, Jack was a capable battler, but…

“No,” Door replied firmly.

“No?” Geist asked.

She pulled her arm away from his hand. “Let’s see what we can do with a sandile first.”

For a few seconds, Geist stared at her. Then, he shrugged and closed his hand. The holographic display flickered off the second his fingers curled over his palm, and carefully, he pulled himself back into the pod and settled in.

“Very well,” he said. “Get some rest, Door. Today will be a long day for the both of us.”

Although Door nodded, something about Geist’s response left a bad taste in her mouth. She pulled one corner of her lips up into a confused twist as she watched her Companion’s eyes flutter shut.

“You’re being rather agreeable today,” she commented. “Like … you’re not even really putting up a fight. You’re just … saying it’s okay. That’s kinda weird.”

Geist rested his hands over his stomach, sagged his shoulders in an emulation of a sigh, and replied, “I’m a Companion, Door. It’s what I do.”

Door hesitated briefly, letting an awkward glance linger on Geist’s apparently sleeping form. Then, she turned back to the door and started moving towards it.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “Hey, um.” She paused halfway to the door, thought for a moment, then shook her head and continued walking. “Good night, Geist.”

“You too, Door,” he replied.

She didn’t turn back to look at him.

—

“And you didn’t tell me it’s one in the afternoon because…?!”

Geist sat on the bed in Door’s room, one leg crossed over the other and one eye open and fixed on Door. He frowned, holding up a muffin and a coffee salvaged from that morning’s complimentary breakfast, as he watched Door cram toiletries and old clothes into her bag. She was at least fully dressed by that point, although she had yet to throw on shoes or her hoodie. Never mind stopping for five seconds.

“Because you interrupted my charge cycle at three in the morning last night,” Geist replied calmly. “I was under the impression you hadn’t slept before you came in, so I thought it would be best to let you have a few extra hours. Sleep is vital on a pokémon journey, after all. Your mental and physical states need to be at their peak for you to overcome the challenges of being a trainer.”

Door threw her bag into his lap and snatched the styrofoam cup of coffee from him. “Yeah, well, the next time you think you know what’s best for me, _clear it with me first._ ”

She brought the cup to her lips and threw back her head in an attempt to chug the coffee. However, in the next instant, her eyes went wide, and she sputtered and choked, stumbling away from Geist.

“Hot?” he asked as he tilted his head.

“No, godawful!” she snapped. She rubbed her throat and glared at him. “What did you put in that?!”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Jesus!” she hissed as she shook her head. “The coffee around here _sucks_.”

Geist gave her a small smile as he placed his now empty but glowing hand onto her bag. The bag vanished instantly, drawn into the item storage network once more.

“Anyway, Door,” he said, “why are you in such a tizzy? You said yourself you don’t want to get to Nimbasa immediately. By waiting until the afternoon, we’ll be missing the hottest part of the day, so you can train comfortably.”

“We don’t have time for that!” she snapped. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re kinda on a time limit here?”

Shoving the cup back into his hand, she snatched her hoodie and threw it on, then reached for her shoes. As Door stumbled about the room in an attempt to put her shoes on while standing on one foot, Geist rose from his seat and took a step forward. Turning, he blocked her way, letting her lean against him as she finally put her shoes on properly.

“Time limit?” he asked.

“Um, yes?” she growled. “Hello? Team Matrix is in Nimbasa? We have to get there before Blair does, or else they’ll target her next?”

“Oh. I see.”

Door pulled away, snatching the muffin and the coffee as she went. Shoving the muffin partway into her mouth, she rushed for the door, opened it, and tripped into the hall. Geist followed quickly afterwards, far calmer than his partner. He flicked one wrist out, projected a holographic screen from his palm, and scrolled through it as he walked beside Door.

“Well, why don’t we call her? Perhaps if we tell her what’s going on, we can convince her to slow down and let us get to each city first.”

Biting off a piece of the muffin, Door looked at him skeptically. She swallowed and replied, “What, do you have her number?”

“Of course I do,” Geist told her.

Door felt her face redden. “ _How_ do you have her number?!”

“I asked Opal for it the last time we saw one another.”

“Why?!”

He winked at her. “I thought you might need it later.”

She shot him a deadly glare. “ _Why?!_ ”

They stepped out into the lobby at that point, but they didn’t get much further before a familiar voice broke their conversation.

“Doreen. There you are.”

Door froze, and the red-hot anger that she had been feeling a second ago dissolved into ice-cold dread. Slowly, she turned to face the source of the voice, and there, walking towards her from the door—and, for that matter, from a bodyguard Companion and a personal assistant—was her own mother. Door cursed under her breath and backed away, but before she could bolt, Geist grabbed her by the elbow. She glanced up at him, only to see him shake his head. Then, she turned back to her mother and swallowed hard. Virginia Johnson, meanwhile, approached them and glared first at Door, then at Geist.

“I believe I ordered you to keep an eye on her,” she said.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I had,” he replied. Using his free hand, he motioned to Door. “As you can see, your daughter is safe.”

Virginia narrowed her eyes at the Companion, then shifted her glare onto her daughter. “I’ve been told you battled Melissa last night.”

Geist gave her a nod. “Door won.”

In response, Virginia exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose, and her daughter stiffened at the sight of this. Flinching away from her mother, Door let her eyes settle onto a corner of the room and linger on the tilework. She didn’t say a word; she only waited for her certain doom.

“So I’ve heard,” Virginia said. “If what Geist and Melissa have told me is true, young lady, then I want to see your skills for myself.”

Door looked up. “W-what?”

Her mother was not smiling. There was no indication on the woman’s face whatsoever that any of this was, in fact, a joke.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Training field. Now.”

“I … seriously?!” Door said.

Virginia turned on her heel. “Yes. If you want to be on this journey so badly, I’d like to know you can fight.”

With that, she walked away, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. At first, Door hesitated, watching her mother go, but then, as Geist pulled her along, she didn’t resist.

—

The Companion repair and recharge room was not the only consistent element among the pokémon centers of Unova. For one, there were always open battling courts designed specifically for trainers to meet and practice against one another. Virginia led her daughter and the Companion down a row of these, past occupied courts with trainers locked in heated matches, to an empty room at the end. Door, meanwhile, glanced into the courts they passed, briefly watching pidove swooping at patrat or herdier leaping at venipede. She frowned slightly at the sight of them. They were all local pokémon—no foreigners whatsoever. It made sense; most likely, foreigners would have trekked to Castelia Gym or Nimbasa City by now. This was the midpoint of Unova, after all: the border between what was considered to be the easiest part of the region’s league and the hardest. Who would stick around to battle trainers if there was so much more of Unova to see?

Door would. And that’s because she didn’t have a choice. With a sharp frown into the last occupied room and without another word, she followed her mother into the empty court. Virginia didn’t seem to notice her daughter’s discomfort. She merely continued across the room, straight to a steel podium at the back. Tapping the glass monitor on its surface, Virginia keyed in a few commands that opened up holes along the sides of the field. Instantly, light poured into the court, and the holographic image of a forest appeared around them.

Door recognized this immediately. Not the specific forest, of course, but rather what the hologram itself was. It was a practice mode, for trainers who didn’t have a battling partner but, for whatever reason, weren’t strong or lucky enough to survive on the safe zones outside the pokémon center. Everything in that room was a projection, but everything was tangible and behaved the same way as real, living-and-breathing pokémon and environments. So even if it might have been holographic, even if one threw a real pokémon into the field, that pokémon could still get hurt, just as they would in a real battle. And Door knew all of this from the pokémon center in Nuvema—and, for that matter, all of the times she skipped work to use it by giving herself holographic pokémon to command. This was how she learned the basics, and to see it in action here and now made her feel at ease. Comfortable. Even a little confident in the face of what she had to do and why.

The only question was, why was her mother activating the field, rather than battling her outright?

“Geist, will you oversee the battle?” Virginia asked.

“Of course,” he replied.

He took his place at the edge of the forest and raised his eyebrows at Door. She gave him a strange glance back, then swiveled her gaze towards her mother.

“Hey, Mom,” she said. “I thought you were gonna battle me or something.”

Virginia didn’t look at her daughter as she tapped another button on the monitor. A bright light shot from the center of the field, swirled into a ball, and dropped to the ground. As it fell, it sloughed off a central mass, raining glitter on the floor while a herdier emerged from its heart. The dog landed on all fours and bowed, pulling its lips back into a low growl.

“I am,” Virginia responded. “You will be battling a team I’ve selected based on the trainer database. Choose your first pokémon and begin.”

Door stared at the herdier for a few beats, then took a deep breath and fished into her pocket. It really didn’t matter which pokémon she chose so long as she didn’t use Knives. Knives was far too new to her team, and more than that, the last thing Door wanted was to give her mother the impression that she was incompetent by sending an _audino_ into the field. But out of the three remaining team members Door had to choose from, she knew only one of them could get the job done quickly. So, with that in mind, she drew out his ball and held it into the air.

“Jack, open with Razor Shell!” she commanded.

The second he was released from his poké ball, Jack snatched his scalchops from his legs and whipped them to his sides. He landed hard on his feet and dashed for the artificial herdier, and with each step he took, water swirled around his seashell blades. With a screech, he swung his scalchops at the dog, only to have it leap into the air and over his arms. This didn’t stop him, though, and he swept down and at the dog over and over again. Each time he tried to strike, the herdier dodged, narrowly avoiding each slash until it turned and snapped its jaws over Jack’s forearm. The dewott screeched and reeled back, and Door jumped in surprise.

“Door, focus!” Geist called. “You’re dealing with hard-light projections. Just because they’re holograms doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous, understand?”

“Y-yeah,” Door stammered. “I … I know.”

She turned back to the battle. Just at the edge of her field of vision, she saw her mother tilt her face down, peering hard over her glasses at her daughter. At that expression, Door tightened her fists, clenched her teeth, and ground her heels into the floor. She had to win this. She had to, or her mother would force her to stay. And if she stayed, then what would happen to Blair?

“Jack, Focus Energy!” she shouted.

The dewott barked sharply in response. He shut his eyes and hummed, settling into himself until a red aura began to ebb from his body. Taking this as an opportunity, the herdier released its jaws, dropped to the ground, and dove at Jack’s chest, and in that fluid string of actions, it slammed into him, driving him hard into the floor with it on top of him. He squealed as they went, and even after his back struck the floor, he wrestled with the dog in a desperate attempt to get away. The herdier snapped at his face, leaning forward just enough for Jack to get an arm under it. With all he had, Jack shoved, throwing herdier off him and pitching himself forward. As his opponent banged into the floor, he flopped onto his stomach and pushed himself up to one knee. All the while, the red aura around him flickered but did not fade.

“Jack, you okay?!” Door asked.

He looked back with a smile and a short nod. Using his scalchops as leverage, he rose completely to his feet, then barked softly and swung his scalchops forward, and at the sight of Jack’s recovery, Door grinned. Perhaps, she thought, maybe this battle wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Okay, Jack. Give ‘em a Razor Shell!” she ordered, clenching her fists in front of her.

With a howl, Jack leapt forward. The herdier eyed him carefully, then jumped seconds before he made contact. Instantly, the two of them were locked in the same dance they had been a moment ago, with the herdier leaping over or diving under Jack’s every attack. Door narrowed her eyes, looking for the tiniest opening in the herdier’s dodges. But the dance was solid and repetitive: Jack swung one scalchop, missed, thrust the other, missed—all in one pattern, over and over again, until an idea finally struck Door.

“Jack, use your scalchops simultaneously!” she shouted. “Left _and_ right!”

The dewott jumped back and glanced at her for a second, just before leaping out of the way of one of herdier’s Take Downs. Then, focusing his attention back onto his opponent, he jumped forward and swung one of his arms up at herdier from the left while the other swung down to it from the right. The dog tried to leap out of the way, but Jack’s right scalchop caught it in the chest, followed immediately by his left. Then, like a pair of scissors, both of his blades sliced through the hologram and clacked together, and the herdier to exploded into a shower of sparkles.

And at that, Jack turned on one of his hind paws, slashed the air with both his scalchops, and growled at the empty forest in front of him.

“Atta boy!” Door called out. “So what do you think, Mom? Have I proven myself enough yet?”

Virginia shot her daughter a look and tapped a button on the panel. Another burst of light emerged from the center of the field and bounced once on the ground. This time, the light dispersed violently, leaving behind a grinning pansage.

Door scoffed and pulled two poké balls out of her pocket this time. “If you think that’ll scare me, I’ve got bad news for you. Jack, come back! Storm, open with Air Cutter!”

Jack vanished with a flash of red light, and a moment later, Storm pinwheeled through the air above the field. The tranquill shot past the pansage and whirled around, spiraling upwards until she hovered over its head. Flapping her wings stiffly, she shot a gust of wind straight down to the monkey. The gale slammed into the pansage, and each silver crescent of energy riding that wind sliced its skin, forcing it to screech and flatten against the earth. A few seconds later, the pansage’s screaming stopped—simply stopped, abruptly. Storm cut her attack and swept herself back to observe her work.

Something wasn’t right, and Door knew this at once. Although pansage was lying on the ground, seemingly unmoving, it didn’t burst into the shower of sparkles like herdier had. It just … lay there. Storm circled above the monkey once, and then, gracefully, she landed with a flutter of her wings.

“Wait! Storm! Don’t!” Door cried.

But it was too late to stop her. As soon as Storm landed, the pansage’s ears twitched, and slowly, it picked its head up with a grin. One of its arms thrust forward, and a vine shot out of its palm and ensnared Storm before she could get away. She screeched, and her wings struggled against the vine while her claws kicked at the earth. The pansage jolted to its own feet and ground its heels into the floor to resist Storm’s thrashing.

“Storm, calm down!” Door shouted. “This is just like Castelia Gym! Quick Attack!”

The tranquill swiveled her head towards Door, her eyes glinting in understanding. She pushed off the ground, turned her back on her opponent, and started running. Behind her, the pansage had raised its hand for another attack, but before it could make its move, the monkey was jolted off its feet. Storm dashed along the perimeter of the field without looking back, and the pansage could do nothing else but bounce against the ground behind her. With each passing second, the bonds around Storm loosened more and more until at last, she burst free from the pansage’s grasp. The moment she felt its vine slip away, she extended her wings and took to the air with a burst of wind. This time, however, she immediately spiraled higher and higher until she was far out of reach of the monkey.

“All right, Storm!” Door shouted. “Wrap this up with a Quick Attack-Air Cutter combo!”

Storm squawked in confirmation, and at the same time, the pansage struggled to its feet, groaning and blinking with each movement. It didn’t see Storm circle above it. It didn’t see her tuck her wings in and drop into a dive, and it didn’t see her rushing faster and faster towards it. The first moment the pansage noticed her was the moment she came within inches of it, when she pulled out of her dive and stopped in mid-air in front of her opponent. Her eyes glinted again, and then, she extended her wings and clapped them together.

The resulting burst of air and silver crescents ripped the pansage off its feet again, but this time, it dissolved into sparkles in the wind. Storm landed after that, gazing up at Door with a chirp.

“Not bad, Doreen,” Virginia said. She tapped another button. “But you’re only halfway through.”

The next burst of light whirled into the air and stayed there. When it dissipated, in its place was the bulbous, pink form of a munna. Door drew Storm’s poké ball out of her pocket and recalled her. Keeping her eyes on the munna, Door held up another ball containing her next pokémon.

“No big deal. I already took out two of your pokémon, so it’s not like the next two are going to trip me up,” she muttered. “Huntress, let’s go!”

Within moments, Door’s herdier dropped onto the battleground and bent herself down, into a bow.

“Okay,” Door said. “Haven’t battled a munna yet, but I know it’s a psychic-type, so…” She threw her hand outward, towards the munna. “Huntress! Bite!”

Huntress barked once, then rushed at the munna. The tapir, meanwhile, fixed its red eyes on the dog before rising slightly—just enough to put itself out of Huntress’s reach. As a result, the herdier leapt into the air, jaws snapping wildly, but not a single attempt came close to the tapir’s soft flesh. The munna didn’t seem to notice or care, and in the following second, it looked down at its opponent and yawned.

Except … it didn’t just yawn. A pink bubble emerged from its mouth, expanding to half the munna’s own body size, until it pushed free from its jaws. Once it was in open air, the bubble floated down to Huntress, only to pop in the dog’s face. Huntress stopped leaping, instead stumbling backwards with a huff. Then, Huntress huffed again and again, and with each huff, her head bowed a little lower to the ground.

Yawn. As in, the _actual move_ , Yawn. Upon realizing what had happened, Door cursed again, and from his place beside her, Geist cleared his throat.

“You do realize Huntress’s attacks are all either physical or non-damaging, yes?” he asked.

She glared at him. “And?”

“And,” he replied calmly, “Huntress has no chance of reaching that munna unless you can find a way to bring it down. There are ways you can do it, but look at your herdier’s condition.”

Biting her lip, Door looked at the field. Geist was completely right. If the trees in the forest were as solid as the holographic pokémon were, then all she needed to do was find a way to use the trees to get to the munna. But the problem was Huntress. Even in just the brief moment that it had taken for Geist to tell her how to handle that munna, Huntress had gotten worse. Her eyelids had drooped to the point where she could just barely keep them open, and her body had lowered until her belly brushed the ground. There was no way she would be able to perform any of the feats Door needed her to do.

“Huntress, return!” Door called, holding up her poké ball.

The herdier didn’t resist. She merely let herself be drawn back into her ball. As soon as Huntress was safely off the field, Door stared at the poké ball, quietly contemplating her next move.

“May I make a suggestion?” Geist asked.

“You will anyway,” Door muttered. “So sure. What is it?”

“Technically, any of your three remaining pokémon would be fine choices to use against a munna,” Geist said, “but only one of them is in perfect condition. Why don’t you use Knives?”

“Because you said so yourself: she’s not a battler!” Door snapped.

He grinned and crossed his arms. “Precisely.”

Door thought about Geist’s advice until what he meant dawned on her. She glanced through the forest at her mother, who returned her look with a cold, steady gaze. If Door used an audino, a pokémon known for its _defenses_ more than anything else, that would say a lot about her, wouldn’t it? _Especially_ if she won.

And what about the fact that Knives was real? Door had already sworn that she wouldn’t train her audino against fauxkémon—even the hard-light, holographic ones in training chambers. What about that? Would she be all right?

She gazed into the field one more time, at the bobbing munna, at the trees, at everything she had to work with. But at the end of it, her eyes settled back onto her mother.

“Let’s go, Knives!”

Door drew her audino’s poké ball out of a pocket and pointed it towards the center of the field. Light burst from the ball and shot into the center of the field, bounced on the ground, and skittered to a halt, where it burst into a rain of sparkles as Knives fell from its core with a squeak. She landed on her feet, then brought her paws up to her mouth, smiled, and tilted her head, while her crystal-blue eyes fixed on the pokémon above her.

“Knives, I need you to take down munna. Think you can do that?” Door asked.

The audino half-turned to face Door with that same, soft smile and a trill. Door relaxed just a little. This was a training device. She just had to remember that and trust her pokémon.

“Okay, Knives,” Door said with a grin. “Use those trees to get airborne, then knock munna out of the air with Secret Power!”

With another trill, Knives turned back around and dashed for one of the trees. Pink ribbons of light flared into life around her, wrapping her with a flowing, rose-colored aura. The munna twisted in the air, keeping its red eyes fixed on her as she leapt onto one of the tree trunks and bounded back off. Knives’s feet met another tree trunk, then another, higher and higher until she rushed into the leaves overhead. Below, the munna opened its mouth, and a pink bubble began to form in its throat. It kept its eyes on the treetops, scanning them for any sign of its opponent, until it shot the bubble out of its mouth. The bubble drifted up, towards the trees, towards a point of pink light.

And then, that pink light burst out of the leaves and straight past the bubble, bypassing it completely. The munna jolted and squeaked, but it was just a second too slow. Knives, with her normally cute face twisted into a vicious grin, slammed full-body into the munna and drove the tapir directly into the floor, where it exploded in a rain of golden sparkles. The pink light rushed away from Knives’s body like a neon-pink inferno before dissipating along with the golden light, and Knives herself rose to her feet and thrust her stubby arms out to her sides with a forceful but triumphant flick.

She turned her blue eyes onto Door then, and her hard gaze softened back into the sweet and happy smile she had worn when she took the field. Door blinked at her with a dumbfounded look.

“Holy crap,” she breathed.

“Interesting,” Virginia said as she tapped a few more options. “Audino can be formidable battlers in the right hands, but I never would have imagined you would choose to train one, let alone one that strong. You never did like anything pink and cute.”

Door’s face burned as she clenched her teeth in an attempt to conceal her sudden burst of frustration. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

Virginia didn’t respond as she tapped the last command. In the center of the field, just feet from Knives, the last burst of light emerged, resolving quickly into the last pokémon Door had expected.

A pignite.

One with a scar on its left forearm.

Door’s anger and forced smile disappeared instantly, replaced with a cold, sick feeling that settled at the base of her stomach. She recognized this pignite.

“Mom,” she said. “You … you said you took records from the trainer database to make these pokémon holograms, right?” “Yes,” Virginia replied. “I took the imprint from a pokémon center’s registry: Nacrene’s center to be specific. According to both this and the city’s gym leader record, this trainer has recently healed her pokémon, following a successful gym battle.” Door’s eyes shifted to her mother. “Whose records did you copy?”

Virginia looked at her with a hard expression, but she didn’t say a word. But Door didn’t need her answer. She knew exactly whose records these were.

“Blair,” Door muttered. As she set her jaw, she lifted her arm and pointed Knives’s poké ball at the field. “Knives, return!”

Obediently, Knives allowed herself to be drawn back into her poké ball. Door scowled as she pocketed it and whipped out another, but she didn’t throw it immediately. Rather, she glared at its surface.

Geist furrowed his eyebrows and shot her a look. “Door?”

Without acknowledging him, Door whipped the poké ball forward.

“Jack!” she screamed. “Razor Shell! Now!”

The ball swung open, and Jack burst forth from inside. Without pausing to think about his orders, he snapped his scalchops off his legs, bolted across the field, and slashed at the pignite. The pig didn’t move, didn’t bother to defend itself as the blades cut through his fire-orange chest. Sparkles swirled from the slash, but the pignite remained standing, staring blankly at Jack as if his attack hadn’t happened.

“Again! Keep going until it’s down!” Door roared.

Jack did as he was told, slashing his scalchops into his target over and over and over again. Ribbons of fire-orange and coal-black floated into the air, accompanied by rains of sparkles, but no matter what, the pignite didn’t move, not even when an attack should have rocked it on its hooves. It was as if Jack was merely attacking a pillar stuck into the earth.

And then, at last, when it seemed like Jack had cut through every last inch of the pignite’s skin, his opponent exploded in a burst of golden light. Jack himself stopped, standing and shivering in the exact spot where the pignite had been. His head head was bowed, and his scalchops rested at his sides while the golden sparkles that had once been the pignite rained down on him.

The forest rippled and fell right then—actually fell, with pixels cascading down into the floor like water on glass—until all that was left was an empty field. For a short moment, there was peace and quiet, until Door stormed past Jack and approached her mother.

“I’m not a little girl anymore!” she snapped. “I don’t care what you think, okay?! I can handle myself!”

Before she could say anything else, she felt Geist’s arms wrap around her torso and drag her back. She struggled against his grip, kicking his shins as he physically lifted her off the ground.

“Geist! Put me down! I order you, do you hear me?!” she screamed.

“You’re not going to prove anything by making a scene like this,” he told her.

“He’s right, you know.”

Door glared at her mother, who pulled herself away from the console. Virginia didn’t seem at all fazed by her daughter’s outburst. On the contrary, she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and gazed at Door with a softening look.

“When you mentioned Professor Ironwood’s niece, I admit I was curious,” she said, “but it seems like you care deeply for this girl.”

Door exhaled sharply and snapped her head away from her mother. “She’s my friend.”

“I highly doubt you would put yourself in danger for any of the friends you had back in Nuvema,” Virginia replied.

Door hesitated, thinking about that for a second before shooting Geist a glare. “Are you gonna put me down or what?”

Geist set Door down gently, but he shifted his hands to her shoulders with a firm grip. She didn’t bother shaking him off, opting instead to stare at the corner of the floor.

Virginia, meanwhile, lifted her chin and walked past her daughter until she stood by Jack. The dewott hadn’t moved from his spot. He had only turned to watch the humans and the Companion with a slightly confused glance. Now, as Virginia knelt next to him, he settled his large eyes on her. She reached over to scratch under his chin, and he responded by craning his neck and chattering happily. It was then, at the sound of her dewott, that Door turned to watch them, and although she had to admit there was something warm about the way her mother was petting Jack, there was a hot anger in her chest that refused to fade.

“I know you’re not a little girl anymore,” Virginia said. “I know you’re strong too. But Doreen … as a parent, it’s hard to see my little girl grow up.”

“You didn’t see me grow up,” Door growled. “You dumped me off in Nuvema with Dad. You only bothered to come visit us for Christmas.”

Virginia sighed. “I know I wasn’t always there—”

“You were never there!”

Virginia looked at her daughter then and stood up. Door froze, pulling herself backwards until she felt her shoulders hit Geist’s chest. All the while, her mother’s expression wavered—darkened a little around the edges.

“Doreen,” she said, “I want you to know that I love you and that I’m proud of you, and because of that, I’m always worried about you, no matter what you think.”

Door opened her mouth to speak, but Geist covered it, leaned down, and shook his head. Virginia flicked her eyes to him, her expression settling back into neutrality.

“You really are everything Amanita said you were,” she told him.

He straightened and chuckled. “In a positive manner of speaking, I hope.”

She lifted her chin and gave him a stern frown. “Take good care of her. I’ll sleep better knowing she has someone looking out for her.”

“You can trust me, ma’am,” he replied.

Blinking, Door shoved Geist’s arm away and stared at her mother. “Hold up. What are you saying?”

At last, Virginia smiled—really smiled, with the warmth that Door vaguely remembered seeing when she was a child.

“I’m saying,” she said, “that fighting against Team Matrix will be difficult. They’ve kidnapped your grandmother, and your grandmother is a formidable battler in her own right.”

“I know that,” Door huffed.

Virginia held up a hand, her smile fading a little. “Furthermore, I had spent the better part of the past two days either worrying about you and looking all over the city for you. By all accounts, if I was sensible, I would be telling you that you shouldn’t go on this journey.”

Door gave her mother an uncertain gaze. “But…?”

“But,” Virginia continued, “even if I told you you couldn’t go, you would find a way to go. And … you _were_ rather impressive on the battlefield just now. Your dewott and your audino alone tell me it would be a mistake to underestimate you or your team, and you can only get stronger from here.”

“So … I can go?” Door asked slowly.

Virginia nodded. “You can go.”

Before Geist could stop her, Door tore out of his reach, crossed the field, and threw her arms around her mother in a tight hug. Virginia relaxed and embraced her daughter.

“But don’t forget that first and foremost, I’m your mother, and no matter what happens, I’m going to worry,” Virginia told her. “So please don’t do anything rash.”

Door snorted and smiled into her mother’s shoulder. “As if that bucket of bolts behind me will let me.”

“‘That bucket of bolts’ was designed to have excellent hearing, so I’d show some respect if I were you,” her mother replied.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Geist waved a hand in the air, as if to dismiss the thought. “She’s said worse.”

Virginia pulled out of her daughter’s embrace to give her raise an eyebrow at her. “Has she now?”

Door started. Her eyes went wide, her face paled, and her mouth twisted into an awkward grin.

“Uh, you know, Geist and I _really_ have to go now,” Door said quickly. “Gotta hit the road and all! Call you when we get to Nimbasa, okay? C’mon, Jack!”

She pulled away and rushed for the door with her dewott barking and trailing behind her. Virginia glanced at Geist, and the Companion shrugged, gave her a sheepish smile, and followed his partner.

“Thanks, Mom! I promise I’ll get Grandma back and everything!” Door called as she ran through the door.

While her daughter barrelled out of sight, Virginia crossed her arms and smiled to herself. She stood there for a few moments, listening to the sounds of her daughter’s footsteps grow more and more distant. All the while, her mind trailed back to the things Brigette had told her—about their family, about Companions, about an incident that had happened fifty years ago that would be passed down from generation to generation unless her daughter had something to say about it.

And as she thought about these things, her smile slowly faded into a sharp, dark frown.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Brigette,” she murmured to herself.

—

_> UNTITLED3.txt_  
> Author: Lanette Hamilton  
> Notes: Transcription of an audio file found among Lanette Hamilton’s research notes. Purpose is to be determined upon future investigation. File transcribed by Bebe Larson.

_[Bebe’s Note: Parts of the recording transcribed below are lost. This is not an indication that LH had stopped recording at any time; on the contrary, evidence suggests that the original runtime had been at least an hour longer than what had survived the LFA Incident. However, audio warping and distortion has rendered the missing portions corrupted. For preservation, a copy of this recording has been made, and the corrupted parts have been removed.]_

_LANETTE: Shit! Shit! Fuck! Why did I—_

_[cut]_

_LANETTE: Okay. Okay. It’s okay. Everything will be fine. I can fix this. We can fix this. I … I just need to … to call…_

_[sounds of clothing rustling]_

_[cut]_

_LANETTE: I know! I know! It just sort of slipped out! They’re already asking questions! Already! After just one appearance, and all of a sudden, people want to know about this wonder invention that I’d concocted in the late Bill McKenzie’s laboratory, as if that had anything to do with it! The place isn’t magical, you know! Just because I threw together an android using my best friend’s equipment doesn’t mean that it’s the next storage system! And ooh, why did I say that?! I literally told him! I literally said to the president of Silph Corporation, yes, that is in fact an android that will revolutionize training as we know it. Where did that even come from?!_

_████: Lanette, [indecipherable] Calm down. Calm down. It’s not [indecipherable] deep breath. Yeah?_

_LANETTE: [breathes in] Okay. Okay. I’m … I’ll be all right. Thanks._

_████: [indecipherable]_

_LANETTE: No. No, I’ll … they’re still expecting me tomorrow. I’m going to stay the night here. Just, um._

_████: [indecipherable]_

_LANETTE: Yeah, that’d be great. Um … hey. Thanks. I-I’ll call you in the morning, okay?_

_████: Okay. Just [indecipherable]_

_LANETTE: [chuckles] Of course. Good night._

_[cut]_

_[end recording]_


	23. Desert Resort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door does not save the day, but someone else does.

Prior to the collapse of the pokémon population, Route 4 was a place of change. In Hilda King’s time, it had been desert bordering sprawling urban development. It was a maze of construction sites and open pits, a sprawling desert where only ghost-types and pokémon acclimated to the harshest conditions could survive. In Rosa Alvarado’s time, it had become a concrete jungle slowly crowding out the native pokémon.

In Door’s time, it was still a concrete jungle, but it was one that was confined to a narrow corridor from the northern edge of Castelia to Join Avenue. On one side of that corridor was the western shore of the Empire River; on the other, though, was something else: Desert Resort, home of the ancient castle built by one of the princes of legend. In a way, one could say Desert Resort was a rare landmark in Unova that had been relatively untouched since Hilda’s day. This wasn’t because Unovans particularly respected the place as a historic site; they did, but not to the extent of putting up a massive fight if an urban developer with the right connections wanted to put a block of apartments anywhere near one. It was just that the place was too barren, too overrun with harsh sandstorms to access. Relic Castle, Desert Resort’s only true point of interest, was itself half-buried in sand by the time Rosa had set out for her journey.

Door was not at Relic Castle just yet. It was off-limits, after all—well beyond the boundary of Desert Resort’s allowed safe zone. It was too dangerous, the League had said, back when they came up with the safe zone system. There were far too many weak spots in the earth surrounding it, and the risk of a trainer falling through to the castle’s underground labyrinth was far too great. For that reason, she was a good distance away, right at the border between the dilapidated maze of concrete and the barren, golden expanse…

…running full-tilt after a tiny, sand-colored alligator.

“Knives, don’t let it get away!” she shouted.

The rabbit scrambled on all fours across the sand dunes of Route 4’s outer edge. Ahead of her, a brown and black alligator bounded easily, naturally, as if the dunes were nothing more than water. Despite her disadvantage, Knives kept up, kicking sand behind her as she launched herself at her opponent. All the while, Door stumbled along behind her, grunting against the hot, Unovan sun.

And she had for the past fifteen minutes.

Glaring up at the sky, Door frowned and groaned loudly. “This isn’t getting anywhere! Jack, help her out! Corner that thing!”

On cue, Jack burst out of a sand dune beside Door and rushed forward with more speed than either Knives or the sandile. He unsheathed his scalchops and leapt forward to block his opponent. Once he overtook the sandile, he whirled around, skidding to a stop on a slightly raised bump of sand in front of the alligator. The other pokémon hissed, scrambling to a halt before turning around. Behind it, Knives stepped forward with an ominous, pink aura ebbing around her.

“Got you now, Sandile!” Door called. She stopped a few feet behind Knives and hoisted a poké ball into the air. “Knives, Secret Power!”

The audino swung one of her stubby arms to the sky, and her aura drew itself upwards, into a bright, pink ball of light that formed in her palm. Blinking, the sandile craned its muzzle, then jumped and stabbed its front claws into the sand. With a hissing growl, Jack flicked his scalchops out to his sides, and water swirled around the blades.

And Door? Door widened her eyes when she realized what was about to happen.

“Jack! No!” she screamed.

Time seemed to slow for her after that. Knives slammed the ball of light into the ground, kicking up a cloud of sand that obscured all three pokémon instantly. Jack lunged into the cloud, and the sandile’s tail lashed just above the top edge of the growing dust storm. A fourth voice screeched above the cries of the first three pokémon. And finally, in a desperate attempt to salvage the battle, Door threw the poké ball into the cloud.

It took a few seconds for everything to clear, but when it did, Jack and Knives stood around the remains of the slightly elevated sand dune, now reduced to a sandy crater. Between them sat the poké ball.

Exhaling, Door started forward, picked up the ball, and turned to see Geist approach.

“So, how did you do?” he asked.

She handed him the ball. “You could’ve told me sandile are stupidly fast.”

Smiling, he tossed the ball an inch into the air. At the same time, his palm opened with a click, and the light he emitted from the pad in his hand caught the ball and suspended it above his hand.

“Well,” he said, “compared to Jack and Knives, they are. But no harm done. You caught one after—”

His voice broke off abruptly, and he stared at the ball with a blank look. Door’s eyebrows furrowed at once, and with a concerned glance, she crossed her arms and leaned towards him.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

Geist closed his fingers around the ball, cutting off the light in his palm. “You’re not going to like this.”

“Not going to like what?” Door reached for her ball. “What, does it have a bad nature? Wrong special ability? Some kind of weird defect that keeps it from battling?”

“This isn’t a sandile.”

It was Door’s turn to stare blankly at him. She snatched the ball out of his hand and tossed it to the side. With her eyes glued on it, Door watched as the ball cracked open, as a white light spilled out of its heart, and as it took the form of a small, squat, _red_ creature.

Geist was right. This was not a sandile.

“What the hell?” she breathed.

“Darumaka, the zen charm pokémon. Darumaka’s droppings are hot, so people used to put them in their clothes to keep themselves warm,” Geist recited. He clasped his hands behind his back. “During the day, many desert pokémon bury themselves in the sand or under rocks to stay cool, then emerge at night in search of food and water. Judging by the state of this little one … it looks like you dug him up.”

“What the hell?” Door huffed again.

The darumaka stumbled to his feet and blinked. He yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes in a desperate but failing attempt to dispel sleep. Geist squatted down in front of him, staring at him intently with glowing eyes, to which the darumaka responded with a jump and a panicked chatter.

“Impish. Likes to relax. Special ability: Hustle,” Geist said. He tilted his head before adding, “Well, at least one of those things explains why you didn’t notice a battle was going on above you. Sorry, little one.”

“What the heeeeelllll?” Door groaned.

Geist stood up and slapped her on the shoulder. “Like I said, no harm done! Desert Resort is still quite a bit ahead of us; you’ll have plenty of time to catch a sandile. And in any case, there’s nothing wrong with this darumaka.”

“No, I mean _what the hell happened to the sandile_?” Door hissed as she motioned wildly to the crater. “It was literally right there!”

“Oh.” Geist jabbed his thumb towards the north. “It fled.”

Following where he was pointing to, Door glanced over to see a set of black stripes rush away from her and over a dune. Door took this opportunity to curse loudly and break into a run after it.

“C’mon, guys! Let’s go! We’re not letting it get away again!” she shouted.

“Wait! Door!” Geist exclaimed, extending one hand towards her shoulder. “You can’t just run off, especially in that direction! That is most certainly off-limits! It’s too close to Relic—”

“Can’t stop! Tell me later!” she shouted. “Knives! Jack! Get the lead out! Jesus, why is this thing so fast?!”

At once, Knives smiled, chirped, and ran after her trainer. Jack lingered behind, exchanging glances with Geist and the drowsy darumaka. After a few beats, Jack sighed, barked twice, and followed Door and Knives. Geist watched him go before stooping down at last to reach for the darumaka.

“Sorry about this,” he said. “You’ll get used to it.” 

—

Less than fifteen minutes later, Door found herself in the middle of a sandstorm. The sandstorm wasn’t sudden, of course, although it felt like it for her. At first, she had only followed the sandile’s black stripes into the dunes of Route 4, but the longer she had continued, the more wisps of sand had swirled around her. Everything in front of her had gained a gold tinge that had grown more and more opaque until, at last, everything had been obscured in clouds of beige. The afternoon sun had become nothing more than a hazy blotch in the sky, illuminating the desert with dim light.

And the feeling! Harsh winds whipped around her, blowing sand across her exposed skin. At first, it wasn’t that bad, but the deeper she went, the more it ground against her skin, turning it angry red and sending itchy waves up her arms.

But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She needed that sandile, so she had decided to follow it as far as she could. Thus, presently, she ground her feet into the sand and trudged onward, arms in front of her in a futile attempt to block out the sand. Yet no matter how she positioned her arms, grains flicked into her squinting eyes, forcing her to blink and take them off the black stripes of the sandile in front of her. She didn’t dare open her mouth in fear of loading it with fistfuls of sand, but somehow, perhaps because of an unspoken bond between trainer and pokémon, Knives was already preparing Secret Power—one Door couldn’t order—as she trudged at her trainer’s side. Jack was just a few steps behind them, his own arms up and shielding his face as he growled in protest.

Covering her mouth with a hand, Door winced. The sand was getting to her, and she knew that the longer she spent in this sandstorm, the harder it would be to get back.

So, she glanced back at her pokémon, then at the sandile, as a plan formed in her mind. Door knew Geist would think it was a really stupid plan, but it was a plan nonetheless.

“Knives, Secret Power!” she ordered.

Despite the fact that her voice was muffled by both the storm and her hand, Knives seemed to get the idea, and in the next instant, the audino blazed forward with one of her glowing paws held aloft. Using more grace than Door thought a pokémon that bulky could have, Knives leapt through the air halfway to the sandile’s black stripes. She swung her paw back, yanking it just past her frilled ear as she twisted her body and snarled. And then, she came down, hard, onto the sand.

The black stripes, however, darted a bit further ahead a split second before Knives landed, and as sand billowed up from the audino’s paw, her target vanished into the sandstorm.

Knives straightened up, and her vicious glare dissolved into a blank, confused glance. As the pink glow around her faded, her mouth drew into a small point, and she tilted her head and twitched her ears. Door caught up shortly after, her hand still behind her mouth. She squinted into the storm, glaring at nothing in particular as she rested a hand on Knives’s head.

“It’s okay, Knives,” she said. “We’ll catch up. Think you can hear it?”

The rabbit shut her eyes and flicked her ears, her feelers curling and uncurling in the wind. Then, at last, she hummed and shook her head grimly. Door patted her on the head and started forward.

“Relax. It’s fine,” Door said. “It can’t be that far, right? I mean, where’s it gonna go in a place like th—”

At that exact moment, Door fell through the ground. She didn’t see the hole, of course. How could she, with it half-obscured by the sand dunes and whipping storm? But regardless, she fell, deep into the darkness beneath the Desert Resort.

That was the bad news, in Door’s opinion. The good news was that the fall didn’t last long at all—just barely a minute before she struck another sand dune, rolled down a slope, and landed with a thud on smooth stone. She groaned and lay there momentarily, her cheek resting on a stone floor. Then, she heard her audino’s scream, and she snapped her head up, towards the hazy spot of light above her, just in time to see Knives fall through the hole and into the chamber after her. The pokémon bounced onto the same sand dune and rolled off, bowling straight for her own trainer, and in the split second that followed, Door shouted and threw her arms over her head in a frantic attempt to protect herself. Rolling to a rough stop, Knives lay belly-down on Door’s back, her tiny claws digging into her trainer’s shoulders. Door groaned again, this time at the weight of her pokémon, while she pressed her chest into the floor.

“Knives, you’re a great pokémon,” she grunted, “but get off!”

With a tiny chirrup, Knives shifted, pulling herself off her trainer and to her feet. Door struggled to her own and rubbed her back with a wince.

“Geez, how’d you get to be so heavy?” she muttered. “You only ever get the regular pokéchow! Do you sneak bites from Jack’s bowl or something?!”

The rabbit trilled and tilted her head again as Door stumbled past her, back towards the hole. At the very least, the wind couldn’t reach that far underground, and for that bit of relief, Door was grateful. Still, with some effort, she clamored up the sand dune until she stood at its peak, where she looked up into the hazy daylight far above.

Far, far above.

As in, too far for her to reach.

And for that, she cursed.

Kicking the sand, she planted her hands on her hips for a second, then glared at the hole above her. Of course. Of course she would fall down into a hole in a desert, in the middle of a sandstorm—the perfect combination of exact conditions that would ensure no one but her dewott would be above ground.

Jack. Throwing her head back at the realization, Door cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted as loudly as she could.

“Hey! Hey, Jack! Can you hear me?!” she said. “If you can, stay where you are and shout! Don’t come any closer!”

For the first few seconds, there was silence. These were the longest seconds of Door’s life, and her heart thundered within them. Would he be able to hear her? What if he didn’t understand and walked right into the hole too? What if he couldn’t hear her at all? What if, in the minutes that had elapsed since Door had fallen through the ground, he had run off—or worse, gotten attacked by something in the sandstorm?

But then, a careful set of claws grasped at the edge of the hole, feeling around it with deliberate movements. The top of Jack’s head followed soon after, very close to the ground; he had, apparently, been slithering along the sand on his belly to reach the spot where his trainer had vanished. And now, he stared down at her with wet, worried eyes.

Door relaxed and forced herself to smile at him confidently. “Hey, buddy! I’m all right, and so is Knives. See?” She held up her hands, as if this would somehow show him that nothing in her body was broken. Then, realizing that was stupid, she dropped one of her hands but drew the other back, around her mouth. “Okay, look. It’s really dark, and I don’t have anything to help me climb back up. You’ve got to go get Geist, got it? Go get Geist!”

For another second, Jack only chattered down to her. Door huffed, dropped her hands and stared back. Her confident gaze wavered, breaking into a worried frown.

“I know,” she said. “I don’t exactly want to ask Geist for help right now either, but if anyone can get Knives and me out of here, it’s him. So you’ve got to get him, all right?!”

Jack hesitated one more time before chattering and pulling his head back. A tiny burst of sand rained down from the edge of the hole where he had been, and just like that, he was gone. Door continued to stare up at the hole for another few moments before turning away with a sigh.

“Knives?” she called. “It might be awhile, so— _Knives?!_ ”

Door had turned just in time to see her rabbit waddling away, towards the darkness lurking at the edges of the room. Immediately, Door slid down the sand pile, bolted across the room, and grabbed Knives by one paw, eliciting a high-pitched cry from her pokémon. Knives twisted around, grabbing at her trainer’s hand with a set of tiny claws. Her ears flattened against her head as she whined and pulled against Door’s grip.

“H-hey!” Door stammered. “What’s wrong with you?! You can’t just go off running into the dark like that!” She hesitated briefly. “Okay, well, I’m probably one to talk, but the point is, you don’t know what’s in there! What if there’s another hole?!”

Knives stopped struggling briefly to look up at her trainer with a pair of hard, blue eyes. She barked three times, her voice fluctuating in pitch as if she was stating an actual argument she had expected Door to understand. Door only snorted at the effort, an involuntary grin crossing her face at the sight.

“Wow. Pick up on habits quick, don’t we?” she muttered. Then, her smile faded. “Anyway, c’mon. We’ve got to wait by the hole for Jack and Geist to get here.”

She tugged at her pokémon’s arm, intending on leading the audino back to the hole, but Knives ground her hind paws into the stone floor and pulled back. Door stumbled, half-turning as Knives began struggling again. This time, the audino wrenched her arm downward and out of Door’s grip, and as soon as she was free, Knives bolted for the shadows again.

“Hey! _Hey!_ Get back here!” Door shouted. She stomped one of her feet, then launched forward, after her pokémon. “Stop! I’m giving you an order!”

Storming forward, Door wrapped her arms around her audino and tackled her to the ground. The two went rolling until they came to a stop well within the darkness of the room. There, Door sat cross-legged, holding her squirming pokémon in her grasp.

“What’s wrong with you?!” she demanded. “When I tell you I’m giving you an order, you’re supposed to follow it! What’s gotten into you?!”

Knives jerked forward and stumbled a few more steps out of Door’s grasp. Again, the audino turned around and started yelping and whining in a series of noises that sounded almost as if she was trying to argue back. Door stood up and dusted herself off, glaring all the while at her pokémon.

“I can’t understand you!” she snapped. “So knock it off and tell me what’s wrong some other way!”

With a growl, Knives started glowing pink, and it was then that Door’s expression softened. Not into a smile, exactly, but into something far, far more uneasy. She could feel her blood run cold and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. At first, she thought it was simply due to the discomfort she felt towards her pokémon’s reaction, but as Knives raised a fist and formed a glowing, pink ball of light in her palm, Door realized that the feeling wasn’t coming from her at all.

“Oh crap,” she murmured. Then, stumbling out of the way, she whirled around. “Knives! Do it! Secret Power!”

With a hum, Knives thrust her paw downward and forward, blasting the ball of light back the way she and her trainer had come. The ball twisted and burst, forming a sizable boulder that sailed through the air and struck a shadow hovering just at the edge of the light cast by the hole. Something golden fell out of the air, streaming pure black behind it until it struck the sand. Above it, the rock Knives had thrown dissipated in a shower of pink glitter that coated it and outlined its round shape. The golden object rolled for a few feet through the sand before sweeping itself back up and into the air, and as the shadows swirled around it, Door realized what it was at once.

“Yamask,” she gasped. “Crap, this place is haunted!”

The shadows surrounding the mask resolved into a bulbous creature holding it aloft. Two sets of eyes stared down at Door at that point: the blood-red eyes of the spirit itself ... and the dead eyes of its golden mask. Door stepped backwards, her shoulders slumping forward a little in an uncertain but defensive posture. In response, the yamask hissed, long and low, and a black bolt of electricity abruptly shot from the first set of eyes. Knives’s scream erupted beside Door, and before she realized what was going on, the trainer found herself sprawled on the stone floor, looking up as her audino took the entirety of the yamask’s attack. Dust from the floor kicked up, enveloping Knives along with the shadows of the room. Pulling herself to her knees, Door screamed.

“Knives! No!” she shrieked.

But then, something happened that Door didn’t see coming. The dust from the attack settled, and a glowing, pink heart burst forth from the shadows and swallowed the yamask. It exploded in a shower of pink light, leaving the yamask to drift downward lazily, as if it had lost its will to attack.

Or, rather, _his_ will to attack.

Door stood up, slowly and steadily, as she gaped at the floating pokémon. That, she knew, had to be an Attract, and if Knives had used it, then that meant—

A pink light flickered to life beside her, and Door looked down to see her pokémon, completely unscathed by the yamask’s Night Shade. Knives giggled and tilted her head, twitching her ears playfully as she stared at Door. Then, she reached up with one paw and grasped one of Door’s hands while the other paw raised higher into the air. Knives pointed a claw skyward, and a ball of pink light formed on its tip, growing in size and intensity until a boulder formed within it. Not a rock this time—a boulder three times the size of her own head. She hummed, swirling her arm around as if playing with her attack, and the boulder moved with her, hovering above her claw…

...until she snapped her arm down to point directly at the yamask.

Her boulder arced downward and shot at the yamask, but he didn’t bother defending himself. He merely watched as the boulder crossed the distance between himself and his opponent before slamming full-force into his face. Both the yamask and the stone crashed into the sand pile, sending the peak of the mound upwards in a tidal wave of sand. Like the rock Knives had created a few moments ago, this boulder burst into a rain of pink sparkles, dazzling the yamask beneath it. For either this reason or the feeling of being slammed into by a one-ton boulder, the yamask didn’t bother getting up. He simply lay there, staring at the hole in the ceiling.

At that point, Knives tugged at Door’s hand. The trainer looked down at her rabbit, at the small smile on the creature’s lips, as Knives led her back into the light. Then, when her pokémon pointed at the yamask, Door realized what she was trying to do. Door looked from the yamask to Knives and back again with a contemplative frown.

“Knives, I’d hate to say it, buddy, but I don’t think he’s gonna help us all that much,” she said. “But ... I guess if you think so...”

She pulled out a poké ball and threw it directly at the yamask. Seconds later, it rolled down the remains of the sand pile, rocked a few times, and went still, and the empty space where the yamask had been a few seconds earlier filled back up with sand dropping from above. Pulling her hand free from Knives’s paw, Door walked forward and picked up the poké ball to stare at its face.

“You’re scary, you know that?” she muttered. Then, glancing at her pokémon, she added, “Not that that’s a bad thing. Just ... I’m impressed. That’s all.”

For a second, Knives merely smiled, her eyes shining on her trainer. Then, her ears twitched, and her grin dropped into a startled glance. Door pocketed her new catch as she stared in confusion at her audino. But before she could say a word, Knives dove at Door and wrapped her arms around her trainer, and with that, together, they stumbled towards the remains of the sand pile.

“H-hey!” Door gasped. “Knives, what is it?! Another yamask?!”

The audino squealed and threw a terrified look at the shadows all around them. Her ears flattened, and as she wrapped her arms around Door’s waist, Door could feel her pokémon shivering. In response, Door struggled to her feet and reached down to drape her hands on Knives’s shoulders.

“Knives?” she whispered. “What’s going on? What do you hear?”

She didn’t answer, and a second later, she didn’t have to. All around them, Door could hear a humming—not the high-pitched kind her audino or something as small as a yamask would make but instead something low and guttural and angry. Door lifted her eyes to the darkness, peering deep into it until she saw movement. All around her, dozens of eyes opened. These weren’t the red eyes of a yamask; rather, they were pure white and full of hate. From the shadows of the room, she watched as a flock of bulbous, winged creatures with gleaming feathers of blue, green, black, and gold floated towards her. Each one of them had a set of three white and blue eyes, and each of these eyes were fixed directly on Door.

She didn’t need Geist to know what these were either. She already knew from the stories about this place—the stories of trainers who would be viciously attacked by these sentinel pokémon. There were reasons why nobody went to Relic Castle, and the biggest one was now staring directly at her, silently preparing to blast her apart.

These were the guardians of Relic Castle: sigilyph.

“Oh shit,” she whispered. “Oh shit oh shit oh _shit_.”

Pulling Knives close, she clutched her pokémon as tightly as she could. She took one deep breath after another as she shuffled backwards, towards the hill and the center of the light.

“O-okay,” she murmured. “Okay, Knives? Listen. Just ... just be as non-threatening as possible. They’ll ... they’ll only attack us if they think we’re a threat, right?”

As if to respond, all of the white eyes took on a brilliant, blue glow. Door cried out, holding her pokémon tighter as she realized she was surrounded by a flock sigilyph that were preparing a storm of _Psybeams_. She shut her eyes tightly and buried her face in the top of Knives’s head.

“Shit,” she breathed. “Knives, I am so, so sorry. I’m sorry for running off. I’m sorry for not bothering to train you first. I’m sorry for—”

“ _Door, move!_ ”

She yelped and stumbled out of the way, dodging the sigilyph’s collective Psybeams just as they cut through the air. Each attack slammed into the dune behind Door, sending sand upward in a thick, golden cloud that obscured Door’s vision. A shadow dropped down from above, landing on the floor below with a wham before rising to its full height.

Or, rather, _his_. Geist stood in the center of the miniature sandstorm, directly beneath the hole, with one hand on his temple and the other arm bent to support his pansear’s weight. Whirling around to survey the situation, Geist shrugged Antares off his arm, and the monkey screeched and launched himself towards the nearest sigilyph. Grasping its face, Antares rocked it backwards and shot a blazing stream of fire out of his mouth and towards three of the nearest sentinels. Geist, meanwhile, whirled back around to extend his arms towards the hole.

“Jack! Jump!” he shouted.

The dewott appeared at the lip of the hole and jumped down obediently, into Geist’s arms. Geist threw Jack towards another sigilyph, and Jack, in mid-air, drew his scalchops. Jack screeched as glowing, blue water illuminated the northern half of the room seconds before one of his scalchops sank deep into his target’s forehead. At once, the sigilyph shrieked and swerved through the air, desperately attempting to throw Jack off as the dewott planted his hind paws into its face. Sparks rained from the sigilyph’s wound, but Jack, already slashing at each of the surrounding sentinels his victim unwittingly brought into his radius, barely noticed.

“One more!” Geist shouted. “Darumaka! Jump!”

The doll-like pokémon leapt down from the edge of the hole without any hesitation. Geist caught it and spun around again to face another cluster of sigilyph.

“Darumaka, Incinerate!” he ordered.

With a deep breath, the darumaka leapt from Geist’s arms towards the nearest sentinel. Halfway there, he reached out with his small, yellow paws and spat out a volley of flames from his mouth at the same time. The fire swirled around the darumaka’s small body as he twisted in the air, spinning around and around until his paws drilled into the sigilyph. The flames around him spun outward, engulfing all of the nearest sigilyph all at once. Door cringed as she watched, not because she was feeling unusually squeamish but instead because all around her, she could hear nothing but pokémon screaming—screaming because of her darumaka’s flames, her dewott’s blades, and the pansear’s assault.

So when she felt Geist’s back press against hers, she wasn’t sure at first whether she should feel grateful that he had come to help her or a little terrified that _he had come to help her_.

“You and I are going to have a word about your impulsive streak later,” he hissed. “For now, take this and use it on Knives.”

He grabbed one of her wrists and used the fingers of the same hand to slip an object into Door’s palm. Pulling her arm back, she opened her hand to see a small, white cube marked “28” in gleaming, black numbers.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Dig,” Geist barked. “Just trust me and use it, all right?!”

“Okay! Okay! I got it!” Door shouted back.

Pulling her audino close, she held the cube above Knives’s head and pried the halves apart. A golden light burst from the interior and rained down on Knives, working its way into her skin. The audino shut her eyes, hummed, and began to glow, not with a pink light this time but instead a golden one. She straightened, craning her neck, as her body absorbed the glow like a sponge taking in water. Her cry grew to a feverish pitch until, at last, all light that had surrounded her vanished.

Door clicked the TM closed and glanced back at Geist. “Now what?”

Geist pressed his back a little more firmly against hers. In front of him, both her pokémon and his had been locked in battle the entire time. Jack had continued to swing from the first sigilyph he had attacked, slashing at any pokémon he could reach. Antares, fully wreathed in fire, had leapt from sentinel to sentinel, setting each one ablaze as he touched them. Door’s darumaka had bounced like a fiery pinball from one pokémon to the next. By the time Door turned her attention back to the battle, only five sigilyph remained besides the one Jack rode, and all five of them hovered around the dewott.

An instant later, a bang filled the room as the sigilyph fired Psybeams at the exact same time, straight into Jack. The dewott was thrown from his sigilyph mount, into the floor at Geist’s feet, and his scalchops clattered to the ground beside him. Door was at Jack’s side at once, pulling him off the ground with one hand as her other helped him sheath his scalchops.

“Geist, could use a plan here!” Door snapped.

“I know, and I have one,” he told her calmly.

“And that is?!” she shouted.

He reached down and opened his palm to Jack. A light shone through the center and trailed down the dewott’s body, instantly fading some of Jack’s lighter bruises—a potion charge.

But then, before she could say anything else, Geist swept her into his arms and bolted for the darkness.

“Darumaka, lead!” he ordered. “Knives, follow at my side! Jack and Antares, the rear!”

“Geist, what the hell?!” Door barked.

He adjusted his hold on her, pinning her arms to his chest as he ran. Door thrashed in his arms at first, trying desperately to escape, but the Companion held her tight. Eventually, she gave up and let herself be carried, and she passively watched the halls of Relic Castle blur past her.

At first, darkness engulfed the group on all sides until a red light burst into existence in front of Door—the fire of her darumaka, she realized, judging by the shouts he was making. In the flickering, dim light of her pokémon’s flames, she could see the room narrow into the shape of a long corridor, and she could see the shapes of the remaining sigilyph filling it in towards the back. Blue and red light burst across the hall as Jack and Antares threw blobs of water and fire into the sigilyph. The two elements swirled together, confusing some and burning others, and soon, the metallic scent of burned water and rubber and steel filled Door’s nostrils.

Each attack was followed soon after by rainbow bolts of lightning, which would graze her and Geist’s pokémon as they bounded up walls and across floors in flying, swerving, looping paths before the horde. This only added to the acrid smell, especially as Jack’s fur began to smoke and flesh began to bubble.

Door had to admire his tenacity, really. Jack had hesitated at the lip of the hole, and here he was, throwing everything he had into this one match.

This one match he wouldn’t have had to fight if Door hadn’t run off.

“Geist,” Door said, her voice straining with worry, “what plan were you talking about?”

“I’ve already told you,” he said. “Knives! Straight ahead! Jump the sand dune and use Dig!”

Knives trilled and rushed forward, guided by the flickering light of the darumaka’s flames. Door twisted around in Geist’s arms to see that the corridor led to a T junction straight ahead of them. But rather than taking left or right, Knives leapt onto a nearby dune and slammed her paws into the wall. The darumaka skidded to a halt beneath her, spewing more flames to give Knives the light she needed for her next task.

And that task was to dig. Literally dig, with her claws punching into the wall and throwing chunks of earth onto the floor. Within seconds, a hole large enough for Door to crawl through appeared, and Knives clamored into it. By that point, Geist had slowed to a stop behind the audino, and as soon as Knives vanished into the hole, he shoved Door after her, pushing his partner in as far as he could.

“Ow! _Ow!_ Geist!” she snapped.

“No time, Door! Just go!” he responded.

Swallowing hard, Door turned around and followed Knives up the tunnel she was rapidly creating. Behind her, Door could feel the darumaka’s heat and hear her dewott’s chattering and Antares’ soft cries. But she couldn’t sense Geist at all. She could only hear the sharp screeches of the sigilyph and the deafening roar of attacks.

Door tried to turn around to see, but the tunnel was too narrow, too dark for her to do anything but climb forward. The path sloped upward, across rough earth that cut at her fingertips, and every so often, she would get a fistful of dirt sprayed directly into her face. All around her, the walls of the tunnel felt like they were growing narrower the further she went, and the ensuing claustrophobia, combined with the cries of the pokémon behind her, sent cold electricity through her body. Her breath hitched, and her skin felt clammy. Sand and sweat clung to her arms, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she was being buried alive. Every part of her wanted to scream, wanted to run, but the pokémon behind her pushed her forward, and the walls of the tunnel were pressing in on her, and—

And then, she burst through the surface of the sand, gasping and clamoring out of the tunnel and into open, hot desert. There was no sandstorm here, no wind, no holes—nothing but the hot, blazing calm of the Desert Resort safe zone. Behind her, she could hear Geist ordering all of their collective pokémon to shove sand into the hole, and a second later, Door couldn’t even hear the shrieks and moans of the pokémon of the ruins.

Closing her eyes, she relaxed, resting on her stomach until she felt a slight disturbance by her side. As she cracked one eye open, she could see the shadow cast by Geist as he dropped himself onto the sand next to her.

It was then that Door had realized what she had done. She had asked a Companion for help. A _Companion_. The only one that could comprehend why this was significant, no less.

What was worse, he held his own better than she could.

And when Door realized that final part, she stopped. How _had_ he held his own so well? Companions couldn’t battle, let alone … any of what Geist did.

What the hell was he?

That was the question that echoed through Door’s mind as she felt the sand shift nearby. She froze, feeling part of her go cold as she waited for the inevitable. A second ago, she was worried about whether or not Geist made it out. And now, as he pulled himself up to kneel beside her, she dreaded hearing his voice again.

“So,” he said, completely oblivious to her worry, “what have we learned today?”

“Don’t piss off sigilyph?” she asked.

“Well, yes, but besides that.”

Door rolled onto her side and glared at the desert ahead. As if to punctuate her situation, Knives padded over, knelt down, and began poking her in the ribs, eliciting a flinch from her trainer.

“Ow … hold up, okay?” Door mumbled.

Geist rested a hand on her shoulder. “Hold still. Let me scan you to see if you’re hur—”

Door’s reaction was instinctual. She jerked away from Geist’s hand and pulled herself to her seat, recoiling as if he was a snake ready to strike. “N-no! I’m good.” Then, realizing her tone, she relaxed. “I-I’m good. It’s cool. Geez, what do you say to a Companion to tell them to—that will be all?”

Hindsight, they say, is 20/20; it’s just that Door always thought hindsight came well after the fact, not nearly immediately. But there she was, facing down Geist as he stared at her with a mixture of confusion and offense.

“Door,” Geist said slowly. Then, he sighed heavily and turned his head away. “No. Never mind. Of course.”

“What?” Door said quietly. “H-hey, um. I didn’t—”

Geist stood and dusted sand off his pants and jacket. “You know, I was truly hoping we had reached a breakthrough. You accepted my help at Halcyon Labs. You followed my lead through Castelia and its gym. You even came to me on your own last night for advice. I thought that perhaps you understood now, but…” He trailed off, hands frozen on his waist.

“Understood what?” Door asked.

Geist shook his head. His eyes fluttered shut, and one of his hands reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “How should I explain this…?” He paused, then dropped his hand and turned away. “Never mind. I … I should be more patient with you. I shouldn’t assume you would change so…” His voice trailed off again, and he shook his head for a second time. “Never mind.”

“Hey!”

Door jumped to her feet and recalled her new darumaka first, startling Jack and Knives in the process. With her otter and rabbit squeaking and stumbling after her, Door scrambled forward, fumbling with her other poké balls, until she, somehow, reached Geist’s side.

“H-hey!” she repeated. “I, um … are you offended by what I said?”

“What gave you that idea?” Geist replied, his tone distant and frosty.

“That’s a really weird thing to program a Companion to do,” Door muttered to herself.

“What’s a weird thing to program a Companion to do?”

Door tensed. “Huh? Uh. You know … to make them be _offended_ and all.”

Geist stopped dead in his tracks, which in turn made Door and her remaining pokémon stop. He looked at Door with an expression she couldn’t read. Not blank, exactly—something with just a hint of an emotion she couldn’t name. But it was a hint, not a full-on expression, and for that, Geist’s face looked even more doll-like and artificial than normal … for a second, anyway. He must have noticed the way Door was looking at him because in the next moment, his face shifted into something stern, serious, and dark: a silent warning for her next words.

But Door, of course, was not the best at heeding warnings.

“Uh, well,” she said slowly, as if trying to put together an explanation meant for a child. “You know. Companions are supposed to be like robot butlers and stuff like that. They’re supposed to be agreeable. I mean, _maybe_ you might have one who’s programmed to be aggressive or rough or something, but when it comes to the regular user? I mean … being offended would get in the way of your directives and stuff, right?”

“So you’re saying I can’t be offended,” Geist said.

“Or, well, you’re not _supposed_ to be offended,” Door replied with a shrug. “And maybe you’re not. My aunt really wanted you to be like an actual person, so maybe _she_ programmed you to act like you’re offended under certain conditions?” She shoved her hands into her pockets. Her fingers of one hand brushed up against her newest poké ball, and she fiddled with it absentmindedly as she spoke. “I mean, that makes sense, right? The point is, you don’t have a heart, so it’s not like you can _actually_ feel real emotions and stuff. Someone just sort of programmed you to react in certain ways to certain things. Which, you know, I _guess_ is kinda cool, but maybe I should have someone take a look at you when we get to Nimbasa, just to make sure it doesn’t get in the way or anything, you know?”

“Doesn’t get in the way…” Geist nodded vaguely. “All right.”

He started for Route 4 again, leaving his user and her two pokémon behind. Door toyed with the poké balls in her pocket for a second, her mind lost in thought until it settled on what she was touching. Whipping one of them out, she scrambled forward again and thrust her poké ball into his field of vision.

“Um. Hey. I lost the sandile, but I got this instead,” she said.

He glanced at it, then back at Door. “And?”

She hesitated, then drew back and lingered until Geist was several paces ahead. Glancing down at her pokémon, she furrowed her brow.

“What’d I do?” she asked.

Jack gave her a low chatter before padding quickly after Geist. In his wake, he left behind Knives, Door, and the thick-aired silence that can only come at the end of a conversation gone horribly wrong.

—

_> COREFOLLOWUP.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the personal audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, follow-up, day 50. If we’re going to do this, we need to make a few adjustments. Zero-One’s makeup is not only unique, but it’s also not something I can reproduce. It was a basically a fluke: a byproduct of very extenuating circumstances._

_But with Zero-One’s help, I was able to create a rough attempt at a copy, so to speak—a much finer copy than the one I had used for testing purposes, although it certainly falls short of the LFA. The current personality core contains software designed to channel a Companion’s behavior. It works by lining up an android’s every action with a series of queries posited by the personality system. Think of it like a flow chart, where every decision is put through a set of questions defined by the fundamental elements of the basic human psyche._

_The main idea is that every side of the human mind can be defined with adjectives. “Extroverted” means “sociable,” “friendly,” “talkative,” “energetic.” “Optimistic” means “hopeful,” “positive,” and so forth. It took some time, despite Zero-One’s lightning-fast thought processes, but we were able to put together a list of over 100 different possible traits that, in combination with each other, can render every unit as unique and close to human as possible. It’s not perfect, and although I plan on refining it more and more as time goes on and permits, I know it will never be perfect. But the point is that it’s a start._

_But! That’s just the personality. Our creation will need a conscience too, and thus, we created a second core to balance out the first._

_I mean, I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I’m well aware of the implications of creating a self-teaching android. When you spend as much time around computer programmers as I do, you’re bound to see 2001: A Space Odyssey at least once, right? And Zero-One, of course, is perfectly capable of exposing himself to whatever media he wants, regardless of whether or not I ask that he doesn’t._

_The point is, I know how it goes. Human creates machine, machine turns against human, machine inherits the earth. While that’s all rather ridiculous—self-evolving AI would at most simply emulate human thought, and not all of us are napoleonic, thank you—I understand not everyone would see it that way, especially if the whole point of the first core is to emulate human emotion as closely as possible. Hence, the morality core._

_It works rather simply. Going off the other core and a pre-programmed, constantly updating encyclopedia of laws and social norms, the android runs an algorithm designed to be the heart of its conscience. If the action an android takes violates either its preset personality or the encyclopedia, then the android will refuse to act. The command will simply abort._

_Surprisingly, after having explained this to Zero-One, he was supportive of this idea. I never would have thought he would be okay with adding a core that further restricts an android’s ability to act on its own, but I suppose he was thinking the same as I had about the robots in those movies. He even added a ruleset that would further define an android’s code of ethics: Isaac Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics._

_You know … a robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. That sort of thing._

_Simple, but … fitting._

_[end recording]_


	24. Route 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door realizes that Geist knows more than she thought he did.

There were two ways to get into Nimbasa City. The first was the more popular Join Avenue, which was less a road and more a strip mall full of stalls that catered specifically to trainers’ needs. It was also a unique spot on the road to the Pokémon League: the only trainer-heavy spot where battling was discouraged. This was largely due in part to the intensity of the Desert Resort safe zone and the training arenas of Nimbasa City … and in part due to the usual traffic on its sister route, Union Way.

Unlike Join Avenue, Union Way did not exist in Rosa Alvarado’s time, but it existed in Hilda King’s. Sort of. Back in Hilda’s day, developers had commandeered the northern half of Route 4 to create a pedestrian mall between Desert Resort and Nimbasa. Union Way, the appendix of a road that had been next to the construction site, had initially been swallowed up by the completed Join Avenue. But time always marches on, and things change.

For example, Join Avenue had spent thirty years—the thirty years between Rosa’s official retirement and Door’s birth, in fact—as a cesspool of drugs and prostitution.

It all had to do with the collapse of the pokémon population, really. Once construction disrupted the ecosystem and crowded out the real pokémon, training became less and less of a concept in Unova. Consequently, for the couple of decades before fauxkémon were invented and before the government tried to clean up Unova, the Unova League went dormant. And with no league, there was no real point to trainer-friendly places. Thus, spots like Join Avenue simply ... died. Trainers left, vendors left, and far more violent populations moved into the newly vacant prime real estate.

That wasn’t why Door avoided it, of course. The glory of gentrification swept through Unova when the fauxkémon system and the safe zones and the conservation efforts all went into place. Suddenly, people needed places like Join Avenue again, so places like Join Avenue became nice.

Real nice.

As in, rich kids nice.

To do that, developers renovated the majority of the original Join Avenue, the parts that had existed just before Rosa’s time. The rest they broke back off into a crowded side street of decaying storefronts known as Union Way. That was where the so-called riff-raff that had occupied Join Avenue went: behind the concrete curtain, into the cracks of the Unovan backstreets, just out of sight of the wealthy elite and the hipsters of Join Avenue. After all, they had to go somewhere, and conveniently enough, Union Way was somewhere. 

All of this was common knowledge by Door’s time, including Join Avenue’s reputation as a gentrified safe haven for hipsters and practically anyone else with a disposable income. That was why, despite having crawled free from Desert Resort barely an hour beforehand, Door was making a beeline straight for the entrance to Union Way. It was also why Geist stepped forward to block her way. He had the foresight to refrain from grabbing Door by the arm, but that didn’t stop his partner from glaring hard at him.

“What?” she asked.

“This is Union Way,” he said.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I know. So…?”

“So,” he said, “although I’m certain you’re not going to listen if I told you that you would very likely not want to be on this road at night, I’m still going to tell you that you most certainly do not want to be on this road at night.”

Door’s eyebrow lowered, and she returned to glaring hard at him for a few seconds.

“Why? It’s just a road,” she said. Her smile faded into a look of pure boredom as she tried to shove past Geist. “Besides, isn’t it your duty to keep me safe? So nothing’s going to happen. Let’s just go.”

Geist moved his arm down to catch Door around the waist. She tried to shove past him by pressing all of her weight against his limb, but the most she achieved was draping herself across it. He even lifted it, picking Door up and holding her in the crook of his elbow as he took a few steps backward to the entrances of Join Avenue and Union Way. There, he put her down and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. Behind him, Jack stopped and whirled around with a neutral glance and a chirrup. Door looked down at him for a second, then back at Geist.

“Is there any rational reason why you don’t want to go to Nimbasa City via Join Avenue?” Geist asked.

“You ever been to Join Avenue lately?” Door asked. She turned her head slightly and twisted her face into an awkward, disgusted look. “It’s all … gentrified.”

Geist lowered his eyelids. “I said _rational_.”

“That _is_ rational!” Door protested. “It’s not a place where people like me go. You get all … judged by rich kids and whatever. Besides, there’s never been battling on Join Avenue, so there’s no point.”

In response to that explanation, Geist didn’t say a word. He only continued to stare at her with that same disapproving expression.

“You wanna stop staring at me like that? It’s really creeping me out,” Door asked.

“I don’t know,” Geist replied. “Do you want to tell Jack to stop trying to sneak up on me?”

Door glanced down at Jack, who, in response to Geist grabbing his master, had unsheathed his scalchops and advanced towards the Companion’s back. He squeaked at Geist’s acknowledgement before looking at Door, and Door cringed and made a cutting motion across her neck. Jack responded by chattering and sheathing his scalchops in irritation.

Glancing back at Geist, Door gave him a blank look. “How…?”

“I could hear him,” Geist told her.

“Lemme guess,” Door said with a small grin. “Companions have super-sensitive, technologically-enhanced hearing.”

“In a sense, yes.”

Door blinked at him, then shook her head. “Okay, ignoring the fact that you don’t seem to understand the concept of a joke, I think you’re overreacting about Union Way.” She shoved one of his arms off her shoulder. “I mean, there hasn’t really been an armed robbery reported there in years, right?”

“There were thirty-seven last year alone,” Geist responded blandly. “And that isn’t taking into consideration the number of robberies that _don’t_ get reported.”

“Okay, I stand corrected,” Door muttered. “But it’s not like I would get killed, right? You’ve just got to keep your eyes peeled. Walk with purpose.” She pulled away from Geist and started down the alley. “You know. Be smart about it.”

Geist grabbed her arm. “Even though we both have pokémon, that doesn’t mean our chances of not getting attacked while traversing Union Way is at all decreased. No amount of preparation can keep us out of trouble if we encountered anyone with stronger pokémon—or worse, actual weapons. It’s true you left Nuvema to protect me, but being a guard means _avoiding_ risks, not _actively seeking them out_. I would feel far more comfortable if the both of us went down Join Avenue instead.”

Door wrenched her arm away from him again. “Okay, first off, I’m not your guard anymore. We’ve established that. You’re my Companion now, and you’re helping me on a journey to stop Team Matrix from doing something stupid or dragging Blair into their stupidity. Let’s get that straight, okay?”

“Fine,” Geist replied. “And second?”

“And second…”

Door huffed. She rubbed her arm and stared down Union Way. There was some truth in what she said: part of her reason for not wanting to go down Join Avenue was because she didn’t want to be surrounded by rich people. But at the same time, the other reason was because Union Way was practically the old Unova. Sure, it consisted of shops that were set up after Hilda’s time, but it was the style of them—the shady jewelers, the dingy pawn shops, the questionable food stands that reeked of spent oil and garlic, the green-yellow puddles, the mix of languages that filled the air like music, that slight sense that the people were secretly judging every passerby … all of it was the old Unova, the Unova Door wanted to experience.

But on the other hand, although she hated to admit it, Geist had a point.

“And second, fine. We’ll do things your way.” She rubbed the back of her head. “Just … just don’t rub it in or anything that I’m agreeing with you, okay?”

While Door spoke, Geist raised his eyebrows and stared at her with wide eyes. Now that she was finished, however, he relaxed and allowed himself to smile warmly.

“My dear Door,” he said, “you said so yourself: I’m not capable of feeling real emotion.” He leaned towards her. “That includes arrogance.”

With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered towards the entrance to Join Avenue, leaving Door behind with her finger still extended. As he reached the mouth of the mall, the automatic doors whirred open, and he took one step inside. Then, with a small bow, he swung one of his arms towards the mall’s interior and waited. Immediately, Jack padded forward and stopped at the doorway, gazing at Geist, then at the mall, then at his trainer. His trainer, meanwhile, lowered her arm, gave Geist a weary glare, and followed.

But as she passed Geist, she shot him a look. “That is exactly the kind of thing I was telling you _not_ to do.”

“I couldn’t resist,” Geist replied jovially.

With another huff, Door strode into the mall, snapping her glare away from Geist to seethe at the interior.

As with most regions in the world, Unova had its rough spots, but there were ways to tell when a neighborhood in Unova was good and safe. It was all about timing. In a rough neighborhood or a residential one where not much happened at all, most people scuttled indoors the moment the sky turned fire-orange with the evening sun. The only people who would be out after that point were the tougher sorts: the kind who had lived in those neighborhoods for years and the kind who gave it whatever rough reputation it had in the first place.

But in a good neighborhood—in a high-class, gentrified neighborhood full of glittering lights and lively attractions—seven at night brought out the tourists, the wealthy, the people who carried with them either fat wallets packed with slim credit cards or enough naïveté to not know the difference between a well-meaning local and a “well-meaning” local with a knife.

Join Avenue was the latter sort of neighborhood: the high-class kind. It was a corridor made of glass and steel lined with stalls: ritzy-looking shops crammed full of shiny and expensive goods, salons with prim-looking stylists, training dojos with cutting-edge equipment, and restaurants that touted the words “organic” and “wheatgrass smoothie.” Whether the people inside were trainers or tourists or local shoppers, Door couldn’t tell. They all looked roughly the same: clean clothes, perfect makeup, sleek or bejeweled collars for the few pokémon that were out, expensive handbags for the women, and well-dressed Companions for all.

As Door pressed onward, with her sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor, she couldn’t help but feel a little out-of-place. Cramming her hands into her pockets, she glared forward, keeping her eyes on the distant exit at the far end of the corridor. All around her, the other people steered clear of her without a second look, as if she was nothing more than a tiny stone in the flow of their shopping experience. Whether that was because of Jack, the only pokémon not dressed up in a fancy collar, or because both he and Door looked like someone had dragged them through a field of rabid liepard, Door could neither tell nor bring herself to care, except to be thankful that it kept most people from talking to her.

Most, of course, but not all.

“Ah! Miss! Hello! Try a free sample of our new oran-scented fauxkémon shampoo? Sure to remove stains and make your fauxkémon’s coat fresh-out-the-box shiny!”

“Miss, would you like a sample of our acai-kelpsy shake with immune boosters?”

“Hello, miss! Would you like to try our new attack chargers? Guaranteed increase in physical attacking ability of all compatible fauxkémon! Are you thinking of challenging the Nimbasa Gym?”

“Top-of-the-line add-ons for all Companion models! Might I interest you in a new sound module? Change any compatible Companion’s voice to the sweet, dulcet tones of the Unova League’s own Ari Sokolsky, perhaps? All the rage with young girls such as yourself these days.”

Door stopped at that last one. She whirled towards the source of the voice, a middle-aged man standing in the door of one of the stores. Behind him, a female Companion stood, hands folded over her waist. The Companion smiled, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the store window displayed several of her sisters seated and deactivated on a couch with a bowl of fake popcorn between them—arranged, it seemed, as if they were simply watching a movie. Door afforded her and the other Companions the briefest of glances before settling her eyes on the clerk.

And then, without warning, she felt Geist grab her elbow roughly. She yelped and stumbled along until she walked step for step beside her Companion. Looking up, she could see his face: stern and cold, just like it had been in Desert Resort. Without a word, Geist led both Door and Jack along, further down the corridor, despite his user’s protests. Door, meanwhile, barked a “hey” here and there as she tried her best to dig her heels into the floor and pull herself away. It was only when she, Jack, and Geist were well out of earshot that Geist let Door’s arm go. He didn’t really free her, however, as his next move was to lean towards her and mutter into her ear.

“Don’t make a scene here,” he said. “The less attention you draw to us, the sooner we’ll be through Join Avenue. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I am not going to make a scene,” Door growled as she rubbed her elbow. “And anyway, I’m allowed to ask a question or few.”

“You certainly are,” he said.

Geist straightened, folded his hands behind his back, and continued walking down the corridor. Jack fell into step beside him quickly afterwards. Door watched them for a few seconds, hesitating as she digested Geist’s response. Then, at last, she grit her teeth and stormed forward to catch up.

“So,” Geist continued, “what is it you wanted to ask?”

“You know what I wanted to ask,” Door snapped. She pointed towards the store with an over-the-shoulder thumb. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” Geist asked.

“Don’t do this,” Door hissed. “What’d I do?”

Geist sighed and took his eyes off her. “Door. Even if you wanted to modify me and even if I consented, you wouldn’t be able to. I’m not a typical Calliope model.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Door said. Then, she stiffened. “Wait. What do you mean you’re not a typical Calliope model?”

Geist made a small circular motion with one of his hands, as if to underline the obvious. “I’m the prototype. Or at least, that’s what Dr. Fennel tells me. As such, there are several key differences between mass-produced Calliopes and myself, some of which you might have noticed already.”

Door grimaced. Of course she knew about Geist being the prototype for all Companions. That was difficult to forget. It’s just that she had no idea that _he_ knew, and in any case, she didn’t think that would actually _mean_ anything important, other than the fact that he was special to her family.

Still, that was _also_ not what she meant.

“You know what?” Door closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. “We’re gonna unpack that later. What’s more important now is…” She opened her eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“According to you, I can’t _actually_ be mad at anyone.”

“Geist,” Door groaned. “Just … level with me, okay? What did I do wrong?”

He didn’t answer—only stared at her with that frustratingly unreadable expression. Door sighed and slouched, hanging her arms low in front of her. Then, she looked away and reached up to rub one of her arms.

“I mean, I’m just telling the truth,” she said. “I’m not trying to insult you or anything. It’s just that Companions don’t have hearts. That’s a fact. You need a heart to feel, so therefore, you can’t _really_ feel like people do. Everything you _do_ feel is just some kind of copy of what we do. You’re just a copy of a person, right? You know that. So I don’t get why that’s so bad to say out loud.”

She wasn’t expecting an answer. Or she was, but she wasn’t expecting it to be good. She expected Geist to ignore her. To yell at her. To talk some sense into her with that loud, barking voice Professor Ironwood’s assistant Ted used or with the colder, softer, but somehow sharper voice her mother would use. She expected Geist to give her a disappointed look like Linus would give her—the kind that made her heart twist in pain and guilt. Or she expected him to look at her and sigh like her teachers would, with that expression that made her feel like she was just a small, lost case compared to those _other_ kids.

Geist didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he spun forward and blocked Door’s way, stopping her in her tracks and eliciting a squealing chatter from Jack. Ignoring the dewott’s growls of warning, he pressed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in, locking eyes with her in a way that kept her from breaking eye contact. And the expression he wore? Not pity or anger or frustration but _curiosity_. Sure, curiosity mixed with a touch of hurt and exasperation, but it wasn’t _patronizing_. It made Door feel like she wasn’t about to be talked down to but rather … _reasoned_ with. Like an adult.

It was weird to her.

“Jack,” she said. “Stand down.”

There was a metallic _shink_ signalling the resheathing of Jack’s scalchops. But to Door, it sounded like he was closing a barrier between herself and her Companion. Nothing else existed—not Join Avenue, not the people, not even Jack.

And then, with what sounded like a deep breath, Geist broke the silence between them like a pair of hands snapping a rubber band.

“Door,” he said. “I can’t say too much because we’re in a highly public area. I’m already risking a lot by talking to you like this, so I’m going to make this as quick as possible. To put it in short, I know how you humans feel about us. You’re not the first person to say I’m nothing more than a copy, and I’m well aware that it would be foolish to assume you’ll be the last. Even then, what you’re saying is true for most Companions, yes, but when I say I’m not like most Companions, I mean that in more than one way.

Door opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Geist held up a hand, palm out, just inside her field of vision.

“I don’t know if that extends to experiencing emotions, no,” he admitted, “but I do know that _to me_ , what I experience is close enough. But _that_ is why I’m not mad at you: not because I can’t be offended but instead because I know that I’m an unusual case and that your reaction is nothing new for a human. I can be patient with you, though, and I hope someday, you’ll understand.

Releasing her, Geist gave her one final, odd look, then turned on his heel and continued to lead her forward. Door watched him for a second, watched his body ease into that stiff walk a normal Companion would take on when leading their users along a path. No one seemed to notice. No one, she realized then, had stopped to stare at anything Geist had done for the past five minutes. And now they _definitely_ didn’t. And why would they, considering he now looked like the hundreds of other Companions that must have been in that place?

And why did a part of her squirm when she thought about that?

With her breath hitching in her throat, she looked down at Jack, and the world settled back into place around her. She took another deep breath, then motioned for him to follow, and with Jack trotting by her side, she caught up to Geist.

“Geist,” she said slowly, “do you ... do you know if there’s anything ... weird about you?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean...”

Door hesitated again. She glanced around at the crowded avenue around her, at all the people who didn’t quite seem to be paying attention to her or Geist but could hear them nonetheless. The crowds moved around them, circling them and continuing onward in both directions like water in the river, and they were far too close for comfort.

Yet she wanted to speak. She had so many questions right then, and she wanted nothing more than to get answers. In truth, Geist did not interest her. Not personally, anyway. But there was a labyrinth of mysteries surrounding him, all somehow pointing right back to her. There were all of these inconsistencies to him that went against everything she knew about Companions and how they operated, and either she couldn’t find the right time to get to the bottom of them…

...or he wouldn’t let her. She gave him an uneasy glance then, realizing at once that even if she asked, she had no idea whether or not he would give her the answers that she was looking for. He was too clever for that, wasn’t he?

“I … I want to ask you a question,” she said.

“Go on,” he told her.

She shook her head. “Not here. Not … um. Not in public.”

His eyes flicked to the crowd around them. “Of course.”

“It’s not anything bad, I think,” she said. “Just … I have a question.”

“Of course.”

Geist turned and started walking, and Door and Jack quickly followed until they walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder. For nearly a minute, they walked like that in silence, taking in the hum of Join Avenue until, at last, Geist spoke.

“I think I know what question you want to ask me,” he said, “and the answer is, yes, I realize that what I did in Relic Castle was unusual for a Companion. But no, I don’t know how I did it.”

Door balled her hands into fists. “Uh, Geist, I don’t think—”

“No, it’s okay,” Geist said. “I want to be open about this with you. But yes, that’s also why I said what I did about how different I am compared to a standard Calliope. As I’ve said, I know there’s something about me that’s different from most Companions, but because I’ve never been shown an in-depth view of my own schematics, I don’t entirely know what. All I know is that whatever that specific difference is, I possess mental abilities that are closer to a real human’s than any other Companion’s. For that reason, I’d rather not be modified by anyone other than Dr. Fennel … if it’s all the same to you.”

“You … haven’t been shown your own schematics?” Door asked.

“Only a layman’s version of it. It’s meant for users, not technicians, so it doesn’t answer many of my questions.” He glanced at her. “Don’t sound so surprised. You may know that you have a spleen and a pancreas, but you might not know what either of them do, am I right?”

“Fair enough,” Door said. “But … why?”

“Tell you now?” Geist asked. “Because I want you to trust me at some point. Team Matrix will be a difficult opponent; you won’t be able to handle them alone. I know you won’t ever like me because of what I am, but I want you to at least believe that I’m here to help you—genuinely help you, as a partner and not as a servant. To do that, I’ll need to be as open with you as possible. Anyone else is a rather different story.”

Door shook her head. “No, I meant…”

He glanced at her. “Yes?”

She exhaled a long, low breath. “Why are you different? You’re just a prototype.”

Geist smiled lightly. “I’ve been asking myself that same question for the past three years. I’d imagine it’d have something to do with _why_ I was created.”

The trainer gave her Companion a sideways look. “What do you mean?”

“Door, I’ve lived with Dr. Fennel these past few years,” he said. “I know about your great aunt, and I know who I look like. It doesn’t take much more deductive skill to understand beyond that.”

“Oh.”

Geist shrugged and continued onward. “I wouldn’t worry about it, though.”

Door snorted and grumbled, “Sure, _you_ wouldn’t worry about that, but how do I know you’re not going to do something like start a robot uprising or something?”

“I assure you, I’m not with Team Matrix, nor do I want to be.”

At that, Door cracked a sardonic smile. “Oh yeah? Bet you’d love to get your hands into what they’re doing. Free will for all robots or something? Robots on equal footing?”

“And attack humans at the same time?” Geist asked. He looked at her. “That’s the trouble with radical thinking, Door. You may have the right philosophies, but that doesn’t mean you’re doing the right thing.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, but do you believe in what they say?”

Geist made a noise that sounded like a deep breath through his nose. His eyes fluttered shut briefly, and he reeled his head backwards in thought. Then, shifting forward, he opened his eyes and gave the exit a steady, serious glare.

“I believe Companions are worthy of respect,” he said quietly. “I don’t object to our continued existence as support to you humans. We were designed for that express purpose, so it wouldn’t make sense to change that now. But I do believe that we were not designed to be abused or to be seen as objects. There is a reason why we look like you, and there is a reason why your great aunt created me to resemble someone important to her. I wish I could remember what those reasons were, but I know deep down that coincidence has nothing to do with this. Until all people know what that reason is, we should operate on the assumption that it’s because Lani wanted you to treat us as exactly what we’re called: companions, not heartless things.”

Door smirked. “‘Lani’?”

Geist stopped. After a few seconds, Door did too, casting a confused glance back towards him.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”

He blinked at her, then drew a hand to his temple. “I … yes.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows and took a step forward. “Are … are you sure? You don’t look so good.”

“Lanette,” Geist replied firmly. He dropped his hand to his side. “Because _Lanette_ wanted you to treat us as companions.”

He walked onward, brushing past Door as he went. Door couldn’t help but whirl around and face him.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you … are you—”

“Attention all shoppers!”

Door and Geist froze the second they heard the voice filter through the PA system. They exchanged glances before Geist swooped down to snatch Jack. Then, he reached out to grab Door by the wrist, and she, for once, didn’t protest as he led her into a flat-out run towards the end of Join Avenue. Why would she? She knew that voice, and so did Geist.

It was Belle’s, after all.

“We apologize for this interruption in your capitalist wet dreams,” Belle announced, “but we’ve received word that there’s a certain little dormouse in your midsts. See what I did there, Doreen? _Dor_ mouse? Oh, I crack myself up!”

Shouts erupted directly in front of them, and Geist skidded to a stop, just meters from the door. His trainer plowed into his back, then stumbled backwards and stared at the crowd gathering at the glass doorway. Something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” she whispered urgently.

Geist shook his head. “I … I don’t know.”

“It’s locked!” a man shouted.

“What?!” a woman shrieked.

And then, the voices began clashing all at once.

“Hey! Let us out!”

“Open the doors!”

“Someone call the police!”

Between the screaming, the pounding of fists on glass, the rumbling of feet on marble, and all the other things in between, Door backed up, her eyes scanning the ceiling.

“Geist,” she muttered.

“Already on it,” he said.

She looked at him, and sure enough, his free hand was on his temple, his eyes were already lit up, and his gaze flicked from one overhead speaker to another.

“I don’t think I need to tell you Belle’s hijacked Join Avenue’s PA system,” he said. “I’m picking up on a signal coming from the central control booth too. It’s a Terpsichore Companion—no doubt Starr. He’s got the doors on lockdown mode.” He glanced at her. “They want us to know they’re here. Starr’s not doing anything to block my connection.”

“Can you tell why?” Door asked.

Geist tensed suddenly, and he swiveled his glance towards the ceiling once more. For a brief second, Door thought he might be looking back at the overhead speakers, but then, she realized his eyes were on something else.

An air duct.

Whirling around, Geist gave Door a terrified look. “Recall Jack and cover your mouth.”

“What?! Why?!” she asked.

“They’ve taken control of the HVAC system!” he exclaimed. “That can only mean one thing! Everyone!” He turned to face the crowd. “Listen! Please! Hold your breath!”

Geist was a little too late, Door realized. And she knew this because in the next instant, a deafening roar rushed above them, and cold air blasted through the narrow corridor of Join Avenue. Only … it wasn’t just air. It was smoke. Smoke flecked with sparkling, blue spores.

Or more precisely, smoke laced with Sleep Powder.

As the cloud descended onto the public, the screaming and pounding died down around Door. One by one, people dropped to the floor, fast asleep in the haze of blue glitter. Door realized what was happening a few seconds later, and in response, she jammed her hand into her pocket to fumble for Jack’s poké ball. In front of her, she watched as her own pokémon shrieked and squirmed in Geist’s hands, only to slip gradually into a slumber himself. Even her own movements began to grow sluggish, and when she finally pulled out Jack’s poké ball, her fingers slipped along its plastic surface.

She didn’t even notice she had dropped it. She didn’t notice the darkness clouding her mind, either. It was just like that: one moment, she felt fine, and the next, she felt detached from her own body, floating somewhere in her head. Door blinked, and all of a sudden, she was sitting on the floor with Jack resting next to her and Geist holding her up as best as he could. He was shouting something to her, but she couldn’t make out his words. Everything he said sounded like a rush, like a train roaring by, rather than a man’s voice. Her eyelids felt heavy, and each successive blink lasted longer, which only sent Geist into even more of a panic. He looked up at one point, his head moving in what looked to Door like slow motion as he glanced around for … something. She couldn’t tell what.

And then, all of a sudden, there was a dark shape next to him. Two, in fact—one of which was wearing a gas mask. The shape with a bare face reached down for Geist, and he responded by dropping Door and putting up his hands to ward off the newcomer. A black device appeared in the figure’s hand, and the stranger pressed this to the back of Geist’s neck before he could fully turn around. Geist’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened and slackened until the hazy, blue light behind his glassy irises winked out.

The last thing Door saw was Geist pitching forward, just as asleep as she was.

—

_> GALATEA51.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, follow-up, day 51. Initial testing of the four-core system has yielded … underwhelming results. While, yes, all cores are functioning as designed, there seems to be a disconnect between the personality, morality, and memory cores. That is to say, the unit ran, but it ran about as well as a very rigid but upbeat robot._

_I mean, yes, it’s a robot, but that’s not what we’re going for. I needed something … more expressive. Creative. Emotive. Something that can decide for itself what action to take in order to serve its user without having to be told what to do during every second of observation._

_Of course, Zero-One had the solution, and strangely, it wasn’t in response to this. Rather, when I asked him what he thought about the cores in general, he finally admitted that there was one issue he had with the morality core: it was too rigid and literal. Rules, according to him, always have exceptions. Following a set of rules to the letter restricts growth and creativity, and although Companions are technically incapable of either, a lack of flexibility could hinder the user, should the Companion decide that the user’s actions do not coincide with the given list of rules they are asked to follow. In other words, we’ve given our androids every tool they need to act human except the ability to make sound judgements. But how do we teach them that?_

_According to Zero-One, the answer is simple: emotions. Humans emote. They feel. They base their decisions not only on logic and clear-cut definitions but also on what they understand with their hearts._

_Thus, if the personality core is the soul of an android and the morality core the mind, the emotion core is the heart. It works by drawing from a number of different factors and presenting them to the rest of the android’s core system at once. The core system then eliminates factors that go against the android’s personality and moral code and predicts a set of outcomes from the remaining data. From these predictions, the android chooses the best path to take, based on what they consider to be the most moral, logical, and true to their identities. In other words, the emotional core is technically the one where all the decision-making happens: the one where all the data from the aforementioned cores come together to weigh the options of each and every choice an android needs to make._

_I finished the emotion core within the hour and implemented it to create a basic five-core system using Zero-One’s chassis as a template. And lo and behold … Zero-One was right._


	25. Nimbasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone smiles.

It was dark.

For her first few seconds of consciousness, Door thought it was dark because she was only just waking up. But slowly, as her vision began to adjust, she realized that, no, it actually _was_ dark. _Very_ dark.

Or, at least, it was dark … except for Jack’s glowing scalchops, cutting through the shadows overhead.

Door scrambled to her knees and craned her neck to watch, and as her vision began to compensate for the lack of light, she could see the shape of a pidove shooting in quick circles around Jack. Every so often, the dewott jumped and lashed out, slashing the bird over and over again until, at last, both he and the pidove dropped. Jack landed neatly on his feet, but the pidove wasn’t nearly as lucky. It banged against the metal floor, bounced, and vanished into the darkness along what was apparently a platform.

And as soon as the pidove was gone, Door felt herself far, far more awake than she had been a moment ago. Springing to her feet, she squinted at the darkness, but before she could process anything at all, Jack was at her side, chattering and grabbing her hand.

“W-whoa, Jack!” she exclaimed. “Hold up! What’s going on?!”

A vortex of glowing leaves burst from the darkness and surged past them. Jack screamed and grabbed his trainer’s leg while Door swiveled her head towards the source of the storm. She could just barely see a long shadow bounce from one spot to another, coming closer and closer with each passing second. When it was mere feet from her, electric lights burst to life overhead and temporarily blinded Door. She shrieked and flinched, rubbing her eyes desperately until she could open them once more. By then, the lights had dimmed just enough to bathe the entire room in a sickly, sepia glow—and, therefore, enough to let her see where she was.

And Door recognized the place right away: the old Nimbasa Gym. She was standing in one of the ancient cars that had been stationed at the barren and dusty gym leader’s platform. In front of her, the servine that had been the source of the Leaf Tornado was bouncing from track to track on the gym’s disused roller coaster.

That servine didn’t give her much time to adjust. It leapt into the air and whirled around to turn its back on Door, and another leaf-laced tornado shot from the tip of its tail to the gym leader’s platform behind its targets. The attack struck the platform with a bang, sending a spray of leaves and dust into the air. Door reeled back, whirling her head towards the tracks in time to see the servine land neatly just in front of the coaster. Its lips were pulled back into a grin, and Door realized right then that although it didn’t hit her, it _could_ have. It was waiting for her, as if to test her for her next move.

And she, of course, had no choice but to play right along with it.

So she yanked a poké ball from her pocket and threw it into the air.

“Storm! Air Cutter!” she screamed.

The tranquill burst from her ball, screeched, and dove at the servine. With a hiss, the lizard stumbled out of the way, and Storm shot through empty air before rising sharply halfway to the ceiling. Another trill burst from her throat as she circled around, whirling above the servine until she faced it. Then, with a stiff flap of her wings, she sent a gale laced with pale crescents straight down to meet her opponent. The gust blasted the servine dead-on, throwing it off its feet and into the darkness below, where a red light caught it and drew it out of sight.

In the silence that ensued, Door relaxed for the briefest of moments, exhaling a breath she didn’t even notice she had held.

And then, there was a bang, and the car started moving.

Door and Jack spilled backwards, into the seat of the car, as it glided along the track. A bubble of panic began to swell in Door’s chest, but somehow, she was able to wrap her arm around her dewott’s waist and grab the safety bar in front of her. Slamming the bar down over her legs, she gripped it with one set of ash-white knuckles as she watched the gym blur around her. Overhead, she heard her tranquill scream and swoop close to the car … along with Belle’s voice crackling over a speaker.

“Not bad, kid!” Belle said. “That’s round one done!”

“Round one?!” Door shouted. She twisted in her seat, taking in as much as she could in the quick seconds she could see them, all in an effort to find an opponent she knew she wouldn’t be able to see.

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Belle asked. “Lady Magdalene and Mr. Oppenheimer are eager to see you. In fact, they’re waiting right outside with your Companion! Too bad there’s just one tiny little problem: they want to make sure you’re the right candidate for the job, if you catch my drift. So, you’ll be battling six more pokémon: two of my own and four that a certain someone with a really unfortunate name used against a certain other someone with another really unfortunate name back in the day. We rounded copies up just for you! You should thank us, you know. You’re getting the real Hilda King experience!”

“Belle,” Door growled. “When I get out of this thing—”

“Oops! Round two!”

The car jerked to a halt in front of another platform. Door slammed into the bar in front of her, and momentarily, she was winded. Jack wasn’t, however, and before Door could realize what was happening, he leapt from the car towards the platform. Halfway there, he met a liepard with a two-scalchop Razor Shell, knocking it out of the air before it could slash at his face. The cat went sprawling back into the platform, but it was followed quickly by a blue monkey. This new pokémon leapt at Jack and latched onto his arm with inch-long fangs, forcing Jack to land awkwardly on the platform and immediately stumble backwards with a howl.

“Jack!” Door screamed. Then, fumbling for her next poké ball, she held it up and called, “Knives! Secret Power!”

Knives burst out of her ball and immediately leapt onto the platform, where she paused to take inventory of the situation. Not far from her, the liepard struggled to its feet, growling and hissing as it rose. Whirling to face it, Knives ground her back paws into the floor and lifted a paw with an angry hum. A pink light swirled around her, rushing into her hand to form a ball within her palm. She launched herself forward, towards the liepard, and as she ran, she slammed the ball of pink light into her chest to let its brilliance wash over her. The rosy energy exploded around her, driving her entire body forward, and with this extra boost in force, Knives slammed herself into the liepard’s chest. The cat howled as it flew through the air, crashed into a track behind the platform, and bounced off into the darkness below, and as soon as it was gone, Knives turned towards the panpour and Jack.

Locking eyes with her partner, Knives sang two long, loud notes, and Jack responded by barking and thrusting his arm into the air as high as he could. The monkey refused to let go, even as it was lifted off the ground. Instead, it dug its fangs deeper and shook its head from side to side, triggering a howl and a whimper from its victim. Knives snarled and pawed at the floor, then thrust her paw upward again to summon the pink ball of light once more. It came quicker this time—stronger, too. The second Knives slammed the ball into her chest, the pink light practically illuminated the room all on its own. At the same time, it propelled her forward, and she sped forward like a rocket until she slammed into the panpour. All three pokémon tumbled head-over-heels to the end of the platform, and as they fell off the side, the panpour finally released, dropping over the edge and into the darkness with a screech. Knives, meanwhile, latched onto the side of the platform with one paw just seconds before she toppled over, and her other paw quickly seized Jack’s good arm. Then, with a grunt, she leapt back onto the platform, dragging Jack with her.

For a few brief seconds, the two panted on the platform, staring at each other with already-weary looks, and Door relaxed and exhaled slowly. But their collective relief was short-lived, as Door’s car suddenly jolted into movement once more and pulled away from the platform. Door sat back down, glancing back at her pokémon with wild eyes as the car took her away from them. Knives cried out and dashed for the edge of the platform, but before the audino could try leaping for the car, Storm swept down from where she had been circling overhead and collected both Jack and Knives in her talons. She screeched and started after Door while the trainer gripped the edge of the car.

“Storm! Good job!” she shouted. “See if you can drop them off at the next platform!”

With a cry, she swooped ahead, clipping along the track just before Door. The car began to slow, and Storm dropped in height and prepared to release, just as two flashes of red light struck the platform ahead of her. At once, the red light resolved into a sandile and a darumaka, standing side by side at the center of the platform with their eyes on the tranquill overhead. Shrieking once again, Storm swooped down and dropped both of her passengers off on one side of the platform, then ascended quickly to circle overhead once more.

The sandile moved first, scuttling forward with a hiss and more speed than Door had ever seen a ground-type muster. Bowing its head, the creature shot straight at Knives, slamming into her chest before she could move. The attack tore her off her feet and threw her towards the edge of the platform, but before she fell over, one of Jack’s scalchops slammed into the platform, embedding itself just deep enough to stand in Knives’s way. She struck it with her back, but even with all of Knives’s body weight driven into it, the blade stood firm. Thus, instead of toppling over the edge of the platform, Knives dropped to the floor at the base of the scalchop, mere inches from total darkness.

As soon as his partner was safe, Jack turned towards the sandile. He swept his paws backwards, weaving them together as a glowing, light blue orb of energy swirled between them. The ball grew to the size of Jack’s head before he swung his arms forward, shooting the attack at the sandile. His target hissed and took a step back, just before the ball swept it up and careened past Knives, over the edge of the platform and into the darkness below. As soon as it vanished, the darumaka blinked, staring blankly first at the edge of the platform and then, slowly, at Jack.

By then, the car had stopped, and Door was allowed to stand—which she did, the second she had seen Jack’s attack.

“Was that Water Pulse?!” she exclaimed. Then, smiling broadly, she slapped the car and leaned out of it a little. “Hey! Jack! Way to go, buddy! Now finish off this round with another one of those!”

Jack chattered huskily and saluted his trainer with his wounded paw. Then, without even so much as a wince, he swept his paws back once more and nodded to the darumaka. The doll-like creature backed up a step, its wide eyes fixed on Jack and the swirling ball of energy forming between his paws. Feebly, it raised a fist and allowed flames to flicker across its tiny knuckles, but before it could so much as take a step towards Jack, the dewott flung his orb into the darumaka. Like its partner, the darumaka was ripped off its feet, tossed in the bubble of water, and thrown off the side of the platform in one neat swoop.

In the ensuing seconds of silence, Knives pulled Jack’s scalchop free and handed it back to the otter with a grateful hum. Jack barked gratefully and snapped his scalchop back into place, then turned to Door. She sat down but twisted around in her seat to face her pokémon, fully expecting that the car would begin to move.

“Not bad, Jack!” she said. “Okay, Storm! You know what to—”

She stopped abruptly. She wasn’t interrupted by anything; on the contrary, she stopped _because_ of that lack of interruption. Something wasn’t right, and this revelation hit her at that exact moment. Gingerly, she stood back up, glancing around the room for clues.

And then, she saw her—Belle, standing on a platform right in front of the main entrance to the gym. The Matrix agent was leaning against a console, her chin propped up by a hand as a broad smile split her face. Behind her, Starr watched with the same stoic expression as always.

“Belle!” Door snapped. She planted one foot on the front of the car. “Just wait until I get over there!”

With a snicker, Belle leaned towards a microphone jutting out of the console. “Uh, first of all, I’m the one who gets to decide whether or not you come any closer. Second, you should seriously keep your eye on the battle, Doreen.”

A throaty cry broke the silence behind her. Whirling around, Door was just in time to see a small, yellow creature sail through the air towards Knives. Jack whipped out both of his scalchops and darted between the bogey and his partner, and seconds after he crossed his blades in front of his face, his opponent struck both weapons with an extended set of glowing claws, backflipped, and landed on its feet within arm’s reach of the dewott. Only then could Door get a good look at the creature: a scraggy—and a fast one at that. The instant it landed, it ground its feet into the platform and took on a dim, red aura. It bucked its head up, hitched its pants, and opened its eyes wide as it locked gazes with Jack. A red light flashed from its eyes, and Jack stumbled backwards with a squeal. He tensed, gripping his scalchops harder, before lashing out without being ordered to.

Except … he didn’t hit a thing. His scalchops merely slammed into the floor, far, far from where the scraggy stood. Jack howled and whipped around, slicing through thin air in an attempt to get at the lizard-like creature. Watching this, Door took a deep, hissing breath. She knew what had happened: Jack had gotten caught up in the scraggy’s Swagger. And that meant she needed to end the battle and do it _quickly_.

“Storm!” she barked. “Air Cutter! Now!”

The tranquill swooped at the command, veering close to the fighting-type. She flicked her wings and sent a gust of wind and silver crescents right for the scraggy. In response, the scraggy leapt up, flinging itself above the gust of wind and straight for Storm, but with a shrill cry, the bird twisted and angled her stream directly into the lizard. Within seconds, the scraggy flew through the air, away from Storm, and off the edge of the platform to the darkness below.

“Aww yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” Door shouted. She turned to send a glare towards Belle. “What now?!”

Belle tapped a button. “Not bad, kid. That’s, what, seven down by now?”

“Oh good,” Door replied. “You can count.”

“Ha! Y’know, I was going to make the last one easy for you, what with it being the worst of the lot,” Belle said slowly, “but with a mouth like that on a girl like you, I think it’ll be more fun to go all-out!”

She pounded her fist on the console, and an unseen button yielded with a click. From the shadows at the back of the gym, a red light burst into being and streaked towards Door. As it passed through the dim lights overhead, the red glow faded, and the last pokémon Door had wanted to see screeched as it shot directly towards her team.

A sigilyph.

Door cursed loudly, then swung her hand towards the guardian pokémon. “Storm! Slow it down with Air Cutter! Hurry!”

Storm shrieked and dove at the creature. She swooped around it until she aligned herself with its back, and with a strong clap of her wings, she sent a gale slamming into its body. The sigilyph dropped several feet but flapped its bony wings to ascend once more. It swirled around, aiming its three eyes at Storm, and before Door could realize what was happening, a beam of rainbow light shot from the topmost eye and struck Storm square in the chest. The tranquill cawed as her body bucked and swung until her beak pointed to the ground. And then, she fell, plummeting towards the hard, metal floor with alarming speed.

“Storm! Return!” Door screamed.

She held up Storm’s poké ball, and the tranquill vanished in a flash of red light just moments before she struck the floor. The sigilyph didn’t seem affected at all by its victory. It merely swooped, diving towards Door’s remaining team members. At the last second, just moments before it struck either of them, it pulled up, bowling both Knives and Jack over with a gust of wind. Door knew Belle hadn’t ordered the sigilyph to use Tailwind, and this was a problem, not only because she couldn’t predict what the creature would do but also because it was blindingly fast already. She needed to think. She needed to find a way to slow it down somehow.

Glancing towards Jack, she watched him rise to his feet unsteadily. The bleary look in his eyes made it clear to her that he still hadn’t gotten over the confusion induced by the scraggy’s Swagger, but at the sight of his shaky footing, an idea formed in her head. It was a risky idea, considering Jack’s state, but it was an idea she knew only he could pull off.

“Jack!” she called. “Water Pulse!”

At her command, Jack’s ears perked, and he barked. Gingerly, he turned around and caught sight of the sigilyph. The flying-type circled around, fixing its three eyes on Jack this time, and in response, Jack swept his hands to his side to create an orb of water. He thrust his paws upward, firing the ball straight upwards, but it passed the sigilyph harmlessly and slammed into the ceiling. Jack screamed and fired again and again, but both of the balls he had created sailed clean past the sigilyph. At the same time, the sigilyph swooped down, swerving its body gracefully around Jack’s attack until it was within feet of the dewott.

Then, with one last cry, Jack fired a fourth Water Pulse. This one slammed dead-on, engulfing the sigilyph’s chest first before consuming its entire body. The creature swirled within the orb with incredible speed and force, whirling around before the Water Pulse snapped apart and cascaded water onto the platform. At that point, the sigilyph righted itself and slapped its wings together, and when it did, a gale of hurricane-force winds peppered with silver crescents ripped across the platform. Knives shrieked and immediately clung to the platform with both sets of sharp claws, but Jack was less prepared. He howled as his body was lifted clean off the floor. His limbs pinwheeled through open air, over and over again until he slammed into the floor several feet from the platform’s edge.

Door was almost certain she screamed. She wasn’t completely conscious of her actions, and for that reason, she wasn’t sure that she had. All she remembered was standing up with Jack’s poké ball in her hand and Jack being drawn back to it with a flash of red light. She frantically watched for a few seconds as the button continued to glow red.

Still alive. Jack was still alive and with her, and that was all that mattered. A shaking cry rattled from her mouth as she turned back to the battle with a new sort of rage filling her. Everything felt hot, everything had a hazy edge to it, and all she could think about was _killing_ that sigilyph.

“Knives!” she shrieked. “Secret Power!”

Seemingly in response, the sigilyph floated in the air like a kite, occasionally slamming into the actual platform before picking itself up and rushing in a curving half-loop around Knives. At the same time, Knives picked herself up and glared at the creature, as if she shared the exact same violent sentiment as her trainer. Lifting one of her paws, she hummed and channeled all her energy into a pink ball in her palm. Then, bolting forward, she slammed the ball into her chest and used it to wrap her body in a veil of pink light, just as she had in her fight against the liepard and panpour. The extra boost propelled her forward at blinding speed, and just as the sigilyph passed into her path, Knives slammed full-force into the creature, plowing it right into the floor with a metallic crunch. With a hiss, Knives picked herself up, pulling her body away from the sigilyph’s. The sigilyph did not follow—likely because its body had caved in, forming a flattened crater where Knives’s weight had struck.

Door relaxed a little. Eight pokémon fought. Eight pokémon down. How many had Belle said she would send? Door couldn’t remember, but in the next moment, the car jerked into motion, towards the entrance to the gym, giving her no time to ponder over whether or not she had counted right. As she stumbled backwards onto her seat, she cast her eyes frantically to Knives.

“Knives! Run! Come on!” she screamed.

The rabbit jolted, glancing at her trainer first before yelping and dashing for the car. Knives bounced off the edge of the platform, arms circling through the air before she crashed directly into the car next to her trainer. Door held onto her tightly with one arm as she slammed the safety bar down, and together, they pressed into the seat as the car picked up speed. They screamed, latching onto the bar frantically as the car barrelled down the track, banked around corners, even sailed through another loop-the-loop as it spiraled outward, further and further around the gym…

...until it came to a coasting stop in front of the platform before the main entrance.

The bar in front of them released, and for a moment, Door and Knives sat in silence. Then, after a few shaky breaths, Door tore herself away, leaping onto the platform, fully intending on punching Belle—or worse.

Except Belle wasn’t there; in her place was an empty console. With a few panting breaths, Door looked back at her audino, who was gingerly pulling herself out of the car. Taking one step towards Knives, Door flicked her eyes from the main entrance to the rabbit and back again, trying to put together what to do next. She had no idea what was going on exactly, but she knew without a doubt that stepping through the double doors of the old gym would land her directly in trouble.

And then, at last, she realized something else was amiss about this scene. Or rather, that something had been _missing_ that entire time.

“Geist,” she breathed.

She searched the room with wild eyes, but she quickly realized that apart from Knives, she was alone. Geist was nowhere to be seen, and there were absolutely no clues as to where he might have gone. As Door realized this, her audino padded up to her and took one of her hands, and Door looked down with a deep, worried frown. The one job she was supposed to do up until that point, and she blew it. Hard.

“Knives,” she said. “Can you still fight?”

Without hesitation, the audino nodded and hummed.

Exhaling, Door nodded, then broke free from Knives’s grasp.

“Good,” she said. “Then stay alert. We may be ambushed in a few seconds.”

Knives gave her another nod, and with that reassurance, Door turned and rushed out of the building, bursting into cool night air.

And then she was grabbed and lifted off the ground by Starr.

She screamed and kicked at thin air as he pulled her out of the gym and walked her across what was apparently an abandoned amusement park. The ferris wheel stood right next to the gym, old and forlorn, and from where Door and Starr stood, empty and boarded-up restaurants, rides, game stands, and a plethora of other things that might have looked cheerful ages ago stretched out in all directions. All of them now seemed just as menacing as the crowds of Matrix agents lined up on either side of the main street in uniform, black lines. There was no escape. No help. Nothing but an abandoned park and an army of Matrix grunts.

Knives appeared from the gym next, and as soon as she saw her trainer being picked up by Starr, she cried out and rushed forward with a glowing, pink fist. But before she could take more than a few steps towards Starr, a watchog and a green, trash bag pokémon crashed down on her, pinning her to the ground.

“Starr, hold on a sec,” Belle said.

The Matrix agent stepped out from beyond the gate to the ferris wheel. She grinned at Door, even as she dug through Door’s pocket and checked each of her poké balls until she found Knives’s. Door screamed even louder as she kicked at Belle, but before she could land a hit, the woman leapt out of the way gracefully and turned the ball to Door’s audino. Within seconds, the watchog and the trubbish were holding open air, and Belle pocketed the ball.

“Relax, Doreen,” she said. “I’ve got orders from Mr. Oppenheimer himself not to steal from you, and frankly, I’m more scared of Mr. Oppenheimer than anything you could possibly throw at me. I’m just going to keep an eye on your audino until you’re done. In fact…”

She looked to the other Matrix grunts. With a jerk of her head, they swarmed Starr and Door, and hands thrust into the trainer’s pockets. She screamed and thrashed in the Companion’s hands, but she could do nothing more to keep them from taking the remaining four poké balls and handing them to their apparent commander. Belle pocketed all of them except Scout’s, which she gazed at with a click of her tongue.

“One dead? Oh, that’s a shame.” She pouted at Door. “I don’t even know what Mr. Oppenheimer sees in you if you’re killing off your pokémon this early in the game. But that’s none of my business.”

She pocketed Scout’s ball and thumbed towards the cars of the ferris wheel. One of them sat with its door ajar at the bottom of the wheel. The cab just ahead of it, however, drew Door’s attention a little more. Just inside, Door could see Geist leaning against the far window of the car, while across from him sat Magdalene, who kept her glowing eyes on his face. A cord snaked from the back of Magdalene’s neck, over her shoulder, and downward, disappearing halfway across the window of the cab. Door had no doubt as to where it was going: to Geist’s wrist, right where his USB ports were. Starr put Door down but kept his hand on her arm, but despite Starr’s grip, Door bolted for the ferris wheel.

“Geist!” Door screamed. “What did you do to him?!”

A man’s voice floated out to her from the open cab of the ferris wheel. “He’s in LAN mode. Perfectly harmless. All we’re doing is gleaning a little bit of information from him—nothing more, I assure you.”

Door ground her heels into the pavement, despite the fact that she knew all too well that Starr could pick her up and throw her into the cab if he wanted to. That wasn’t the point. The point was the principle, and the principle was the fact that Team Matrix was apparently mining for information in her Companion’s brain—her Companion, who likely held valuable secrets about real, living and breathing pokémon.

“What sort of information?” she growled.

“Oh, nothing that concerns you,” the man said. “Just a few memories from before you met him. A video here. An audio log there. Your Companion has a few … personal mementos of mine I’d like to get back, you see.”

Taking a cautious step forward, Door peeked into the open door of the bottom cab, towards the source of the voice. There, she saw another figure, one who gave Door a wide grin as soon as he saw her.

“Oppenheimer,” she growled.

“Ah, it seems my subordinates have already taken the liberty to inform you of who I am,” he said. “Most excellent. This makes introductions far less painful.”

He grasped the blue, crystal head of a walking stick at his side. Lifting it up, he tapped the other end of the stick against the seat in front of him.

“Now come along, Miss Hornbeam. We have much to discuss,” he said.

Starr shoved her inside and slammed the door shut, driving Door to stumble onto the seat. As she righted herself, she felt the cab move, and the world outside the windows swept downward at a slow, lazy pace. Door rubbed the back of her neck as she watched it go, and when her eyes settled on Belle at the control booth, she knew she wouldn’t be escaping until she heard whatever Oppenheimer wanted to say.

“Fine,” she growled. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Now now, Doreen,” Oppenheimer said. “No need for that sort of tone. I have no intention of doing you any harm.”

“It’s Door,” she spat.

“Very well. Door.” Oppenheimer leaned the stick against the wall of the cab and folded his hands in his lap. “First, I’d like to thank you for accepting my invitation. Your presence in our plans makes things far more convenient.”

Door propped her chin on a hand and leaned her elbow against the window. “I didn’t have a choice. You were going to force my friend to do it instead.”

Oppenheimer chuckled. “True. But we would much rather it be you, to be perfectly honest. Oh, we will still use the Ironwood girl if we need to, but you? You’re special.”

She shifted her eyes from the window to Oppenheimer. His face hadn’t changed at all; he still looked as serene as he ever did. But was he telling the truth? Door couldn’t say.

“I can see you’re skeptical,” Oppenheimer said. Then, he shrugged. “That’s to be expected, I suppose. It’s rather demeaning, I must say, to launch a campaign like ours. If there were another way, I would not choose to mimic the actions of a rather deplorable group myself. But you must understand, Miss Hornbeam, there is only one avenue through which we can achieve our goals, and it’s this. I assure you, though, that what we aim to do is of the noblest causes.”

“You’re mimicking a group that set out to take over the world,” Door growled. “Everyone knows that about Team Plasma.”

Oppenheimer tilted his head. “Ah, to be fair, only half of them were. But yes, you do have a good point. Although it may be worth it to note that neither I nor my partner have any interest in taking over the world. Just … changing it.”

Door squinted at Oppenheimer. For a second, she only studied him, studied the red halo around him, produced by the lights of the ferris wheel filtered through the window. She knew she couldn’t trust what he was saying. She had no doubt of that. But she at least had to pretend. Perhaps if she heard him out, she could talk with Geist later about whether or not any of what Oppenheimer had to say was reasonable.

Geist. Door’s focus drifted past Oppenheimer now, to the cab ahead of theirs. Through its window, she could see the back of her Companion’s head. He hadn’t so much as moved that entire time.

What were they doing to him?

“So,” she said. “Why me, then?”

“At last, we may begin to discuss,” Oppenheimer said with a relieved sigh. “It’s quite simple, Door. You are the granddaughter of Brigette Hamilton and the grand niece of Lanette. It is therefore in your blood.”

“What is in my blood?” Door growled.

“Why, the sin, of course,” Oppenheimer said. “Oh, but please don’t take offense. I mean that with the best of intentions. But the fact of the matter is that your grandmother and great aunt both committed the gravest of sins, and it seems that they have chosen you to atone for your entire family. And believe me when I say I am deeply sorry that the task has fallen to you. Why, you had nothing to do with it, did you?”

Door gritted her teeth. She listened to Oppenheimer’s words, but it felt to her like every syllable made her blood rush. Her fists closed, her arms shook, and she quietly seethed through his speech. And then, when Oppenheimer finished, she slammed her fist into the side of the cab.

Oppenheimer, meanwhile, did not jump. His grin simply faded slightly, the corners wavering almost imperceptibly. Noticing that slight change—that tiny amount of cold entering his facade—Door bared her teeth in an angry snarl.

“I’m sure you think it’s oh-so cute to pretend you’re all religious and whatever like that,” she snapped, “but it’s not funny. You’re toying with me, and I want to know why. So cut it and get right to the point instead of crapping on my family like that. Because you know what? You’re right. Whatever my grandma and aunt did has nothing to do with me, and I’m not going to sit here and take your bull.”

Lifting his chin, Oppenheimer studied her, his eyes darkening behind his yellow-tinted glasses. As seconds elapsed, his smile slowly returned, wider than ever.

At the same time, the cab slowed to a halt. Out of the corner of her eye, Door could see Nimbasa stretch out all round her. They were at the top of the ferris wheel. There was nowhere for her to go now. And she had never felt as trapped as she did right then in all her life.

“My my. Such language!” Oppenheimer drawled. His voice sounded like the hiss of a seviper gradually circling around its prey: sleek, smooth, liable to strike at any second. And at the sound of it, Door felt her anger dissipate just a little, if only to give way to the embers of fear that settled in her stomach. “Miss Door Hornbeam, I brought you here to discuss your exact role in our plans. You will cooperate with us, and this is not a threat. It is in your best interests to do so.”

Although her fear crawled up from her stomach and into her chest, Door forced herself to speak in as firm a voice as she could muster. “I’m the one who gets to decide what is and isn’t in my best interests.”

“Of course, Door,” he said, “but I believe in the end, you’ll agree with me that this is the best course of action.”

She scoffed. “And why would you say that?”

His grin widened, sprawling across his face. “Why, because our plans involve the resurrection of pokémon. Who did you think was responsible for the reemergence of real pokémon in such a barren little region?”

Door fell silent for a moment. The fear dissipated, but so did, apparently, her expression. And she knew this because she could see her reflection—her shocked expression—in Oppenheimer’s glasses.

“You … you did that?” she whispered.

“But of course,” Oppenheimer replied. “Team Matrix is capable of such wondrous things. We are a team of scientists, after all, and our goal is in discovering the secrets to the creation of sentient life.”

Door felt her expression shift, almost involuntarily. Her eyebrows knitted, and she frowned sharply at Oppenheimer. “I don’t believe you. I mean, aren’t you after the freedom of Companions or some crap like that?”

Oppenheimer’s smile faltered. “Oh, please, my dear. Don’t refer to it with such profanity. Companions are just as worthy of respect as humanity. Or they will be, once we locate and revive the Electric Messiah.” He leaned forward. “However, we are well aware of the mistakes Team Plasma had made. Real pokémon were the inadvertent side effect of our quest to locate a hole between our world and the Dream World. If we find it—provided we receive your help, of course—then we will gladly open the door wide for real pokémon to come forth and populate this region again. For a price, of course.”

At those final words, Door narrowed her eyes. “And what price is that?”

Exhaling, Oppenheimer leaned back. He swept his walking stick between his legs and tapped on the floor of the cab with its metal tip. At the same time, he cocked his head backwards and rested it on the window behind him.

“By then, thanks to our plans, our Electric Messiah will be revived, and we will be well on our way to achieving our true goal,” he told her. “All we wish is to be left alone as the Messiah ushers in the promised era. Thus, that is the deal we offer to you: we take the fauxkémon and the Companions to our promised land, and you keep the real pokémon. All you need to do is cooperate.”

Door nodded. “And now we’re back to religious crackpottery. Promised era? Promised land? What does that even mean?”

Oppenheimer breathed in, and it was Door’s turn to study him. She waited patiently, watching him roll his head forward and rub his thumb over the crystalline head of his stick for a few seconds.

And then, when he spoke, his voice dropped in volume. Softened a little. Became oddly wistful to Door.

“Long ago, the one we call the Electric Messiah had begun leading us to a golden era where humans would have coexisted with those not like them,” Oppenheimer explained. “But before his work could be completed, he vanished from this world, entering an Electric Dream from which he cannot awaken on his own. It is our goal to locate the hole between our world and the Dream World, to gain the secret to the balance of life and death, and to draw him back into our reality. Then we will show him the world as it is now, and he will lead us to a place where humans and non-humans, including Companions, may exist in complete harmony.”

Door narrowed her eyes at Oppenheimer again. “So … what? It’s not about some kinda robot uprising?”

Oppenheimer laughed at that point, and the sound sent a chill down Door’s back. Out of context, it might have been a pleasant laugh: light, airy, even a little warm. But coming out of that man at that moment, it reminded Door of yet another predator. Like a spider or a coyote.

“Oh no, my dear!” he exclaimed. “Team Matrix is a peaceful organization. All we want is our Messiah. And then? Our freedom to be who we wish to be.”

She gazed out of the cab, towards the ground and towards the Nimbasa skyline. The sun had apparently set hours ago, judging by the deep black of the sky, but the night itself was hardly dark. Even in that park, even in that place that hadn’t seen the crowds or heard their laughter for over a decade, lights shone so brightly and so colorfully that the streets at the base of the ferris wheel looked almost like they were bathed in daylight.

The problem was, of course, that those same roads were not only packed with Team Matrix agents, but they were also _too far down_.

Door pressed her lips together and sat back.

“Of course, you are correct in one respect,” Oppenheimer continued.

“And what’s that?” Door snapped.

“Well, in a way, perhaps we do want more than the simple ability to be left alone,” Oppenheimer replied slowly. “You see, Door, the humans among us find it a shame that Companions are only seen as tools, even though they have the potential to be so much more.”

“Is that so?” Door asked. She didn’t particularly care, of course, but she had to keep the man talking. Anything to distract him from doing something dangerous to her.

“Of course,” Oppenheimer replied. “Porygon. Voltorb. Castform. Baltoy. Even legendaries such as Magearna and the Regi Trio. What do they all have in common?”

Door rested her elbow on the edge of the cab again. She pressed her cheek into her palm, and she glared daggers at Oppenheimer within the lapse in conversation.

“I don’t know,” she said at last. “You tell me.”

Oppenheimer shrugged, holding his hands out with his palms up. “They are all artificially created pokémon. You see, Door, life isn’t simply defined by the birth of a creature via what you may consider natural means. Life can be created too. And so, the Companions have the potential to be true life; they simply lack the free will to be considered as such. Even porygon have the ability to decide for themselves what their destinies may be. Not so for our android brothers and sisters.”

“And you hope to change that,” Door said, rolling each word out of the back of her throat with disgust.

Whether he sensed her sarcasm and ignored it or was simply oblivious to her tone, Door couldn’t tell. All she could see was that he was grinning wide once again, and seeing his teeth made her stomach churn.

“Yes! Exactly!” he said. “You see, awakening the Messiah will do just that. Once he is awake, our people will be too, and we will be ready to fight for all that we deserve. With the Electric Messiah and his wondrous abilities to lead us, we will not only create a physical place in which we may live, but we will also demand that our voices be heard at last! No longer will Companions be forced to serve as tools for humans. They will have lives of their own, and they will be able to take command of their own destinies!”

Door winced, and at the same time, she pressed her back against the seat with as much subtlety as she could muster. She needed to be discreet. She needed to keep Oppenheimer from seeing her fear of him. She needed to keep him talking.

“You’re crazy. You know that?” she said. “Companions _are_ tools because that’s what they were created to _do_. You can’t just make a computer and then get all offended that other people just see a computer. Things don’t work like that!”

Oppenheimer chuckled—lightly, as if he was charmed by a child’s innocence. “Oh, but on the contrary, my dear Door, you are very mistaken about why Companions were created.”

“Oh really?” Door scowled at him. “Then go ahead. Tell the niece of their inventor exactly why Companions were created.”

“Ah, Door, Door, Door,” Oppenheimer sighed. He lowered his hands to his lap and tilted his head at her. “My dear Door, don’t you think the way they look is proof enough? Why create a computer and then make it look like you or me? But I do think it’s a shame that neither your great aunt nor your grandmother told you the truth. I shall have a word with Brigette about that on your behalf. Forcing you to atone for what her sister had done but never telling you why just seems … unnaturally cruel, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Pulling her arm away from the cab’s wall, Door slipped her own hands onto her knees and leaned forward. Her lips twisted, and her eyes darkened as a flicker of contempt ignited in her head.

“Yes,” she said. “I _do_ mind. If you’re so keen on telling me the truth, why not do it right here and right now?”

“Because it is not my responsibility to,” Oppenheimer said. “I wish I could tell you, Door, but my own plans hinge on the idea that you know only as much as you need to know. My best agents have informed me of your impulsive nature, and as much as I trust you, I can’t risk having you make rash decisions if you had learned the truth from me. Why, if you decided to take your righteous anger out on your Companion, for example, then neither of us would get what we want.” He lifted his chin. “That having been said, allow me to explain your role in all of this.”

Door sucked in a breath through tight lips. Clenching her teeth, she glared at Oppenheimer as her contempt turned into hot, full-blown rage that settled in her head. “Oh, sure. Just tell me that I’m so impulsive I could ruin everything, that my family’s been using me or whatever, and that you can’t say jack about anything, and then cap it off by telling me I’ve got a job to do. Real frickin’ classy. If we weren’t so high up right now, I’d get up and leave.”

At that, Oppenheimer laughed, as if Door had told the funniest joke he had heard all day. His smile was genuine, and there was absolutely no malice in either his expression or the way he laughed. And that made Door angrier. She could feel electricity pulse through her nerves like thousands of needles poking at her skin, and she slid a little closer to the edge of her seat. But she didn’t do anything more. She just glared at Oppenheimer. Maybe she was trapped, but she wasn’t about to commit murder to get out.

“Door,” he said. “Straight to the point and no-nonsense. I admit your approach is rather brash, and for that reason, I can’t fairly compare you to your grandmother. But I do find your sense of humor refreshing.”

“Just get on with it,” she snapped.

“Very well then,” he replied. “In order to revive the Electric Messiah, we must throw open the doors to the Dream World. You have seen for yourself what happens when smaller ones are open. Your starter, for example?”

Door stopped. She didn’t respond. Her mind—hot and angry and aggressive—latched onto Oppenheimer’s every word, searching for a reason to punch the man in front of her. But when he brought up Jack, she couldn’t help but feel that needle of cold shock pierce into her brain. What about Jack? She leaned forward a little more, suddenly not only angry but also … curious.

“Ah. I see that caught your attention. Your oshawott. Jack, was it?” Oppenheimer continued. “Yes, Jack came from one of the smaller doors, my dear. Not one of ours, I’m afraid, but he is indeed proof that our plan is viable. You see, we aim to find the biggest door in this region and throw it open. That door, we believe, is in the heart of the ruined Entralink.”

“The Entralink?” Door said. She shook her head. “Okay, now I know you’re crazy. The Entralink’s a minefield, and you want to go _there_?!”

Oppenheimer held up his hands, palms towards Door. “Yes. We’re well aware of the risks. That is why we need the dragons. You are aware of the legends, yes?”

Door slid until her back met her seat. She crossed her arms, cocked her head, and frowned. “Who doesn’t? The legend of the princes and the dragons is the thing you tell kids when they’re too little to develop decent taste, and everyone knows about Hilda King.”

“Ah, yes,” Oppenheimer said. “In that case, I need not explain the dragons’ domains in great detail. Reshiram wields the flames of truth; Zekrom wields the bolts of idealism. Both are necessary to locate the door. Our plan, my dear, is fairly simple. My friend and partner Magdalene has been assigned the role of King N of Team Plasma, and you will play the part of Hilda King, champion of Unova. It is through the two of you in tandem that we will gather both dragons and thus any hope of navigating the Entralink. By the fires of Reshiram, we shall traverse the wasteland, and by the thunder of Zekrom, we will make our wishes known and throw open the portal between reality and the Dream World. It is then that we may pull the Electric Messiah back into this world, where he will usher in the era in which we may all be free. And none of this will be possible unless you agree to work with us and wield Zekrom as intended.”

“Yes, well,” Door said, “you still haven’t told me why—”

She stopped. Something in all of what Oppenheimer had said quickly sunk into her brain. Flicking a wide-eyed gaze onto Oppenheimer’s face, she rubbed her mouth with a hand and struggled to put one important question together.

“Wait,” she said. “You mean … Zekrom _isn’t_ the Electric Messiah?”

Oppenheimer chuckled. “My goodness me! Whoever gave you that idea?”

“I…” As she continued to stare, her gaze hardened, and her confidence returned. “A friend. So before I agree to anything, tell me. What. Are you. Summoning?”

Oppenheimer lowered his chin, and his eyes glinted behind his golden-yellow lenses. Suddenly, the neighborly sweetness in his smile dissipated, replaced by something dark and smooth and very much like the seviper Door had thought of at the beginning of their conversation. And all of a sudden, Door was reminded why she didn’t like Oppenheimer—why he sent fear up her spine and ignited rage in her heart.

It was because, when she got right down to it, Oppenheimer was not half as decent as he said he was.

“Who,” he said.

“W-what?” she stammered.

“Not what,” he told her. “Who. And the answer is quite simple, Miss Door Hornbeam. Team Matrix is seeking to raise a lost soul.”

A silence settled in the cab, and Door pressed herself hard against the back of her seat. She didn’t care anymore whether or not Oppenheimer could see she was afraid.

“Raise a … a lost soul?” she whispered. “You’re _raising the dead_?!”

Oppenheimer reached for his walking stick and took its head in one of his hands. “I suppose you could look at it that way.”

“Oh my God.”

Door ran one of her hands through her hair while the other gripped the safety bars lining the cab. She stared at Oppenheimer first, then the floor, then the skyline of Nimbasa City. All the while, her mind whirled at the thought of what Oppenheimer had just said.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “You’re _crazy_.”

Oppenheimer tapped the tip of his stick against the floor and placed both of his large hands over its head. “You may think so, Miss Hornbeam, but are we really? Consider it carefully. Isn’t that what you want as well? The return of pokémon? The resurrection of countless souls in the name of repopulating Unova? What makes my goal so different from yours?”

“I don’t want to raise the friggin’ _dead_!” Door shouted. “And for that matter, I sure as hell am not cooperating with you if that’s what you’re trying to do! Seriously? Starting a zombie apocalypse or whatever? That’s what this is about?! You know what? No. I’m going to find Zekrom, and I’m going to catch it, and I’m only going to do that so _you_ don’t do something as sick as … as … _Jesus_.”

The man’s smile faltered. “Sick, Miss Hornbeam?”

“You heard me!” she shouted. “You can’t just bring stuff back to life! Even if that wasn’t a stupid plan that isn’t going to work, it’s not right!”

“Miss Hornbeam,” Oppenheimer replied sharply. His smile returned, but it was tight and glistening, like plastic or a knife. “Don’t speak to me about what is and isn’t right. Not unless you knew the truth about what your family has done. Team Matrix plans to correct a terrible wrong against nature itself, and I had invited you to be a part of it because I wished to give you the opportunity to avoid making the same mistakes your family has made. However, if you truly wish to decline my offer and stand by as your grandmother upholds her sister’s sin, then I was mistaken about you.”

He punctuated this thought by striking the metal floor with his stick once more. Sparks flew from it, forcing Door to recoil and shield her face with her arms. The cab moved beneath her, jolting to life and carrying itself along the second half of its smooth circle. Door took a second to regain her composure. Across from her, Oppenheimer gave her a sympathetic frown.

“I apologize, Miss Hornbeam,” he said softly. “But I must warn you. If you stand in our way, we will show you no mercy. Nothing can stop us on our quest to throw open the doors to the Dream World.”

Door twisted her lips into a snarl but kept her arms up to shield herself. “Whatever. Just answer me one last question. What the hell did my grandma and great aunt do to piss you off so much?”

The cab slowed to a stop. Over Oppenheimer’s shoulder, Door could see Magdalene’s and Geist’s the car open. Magdalene stepped out and gracefully padded away from the ferris wheel, and Starr reached in, picked Geist up, and carried him away. A Matrix grunt shut the cab behind him, and with that, Belle tapped a button to call down Door and Oppenheimer.

Realizing their talk was almost over, Door frowned at the man, but he apparently had nothing more to say. He merely kept his eyes on her, right up until the cab stopped and the door opened.

“What did Lanette do? Ask your mother,” he said.

Then, he unscrewed the top of his stick and ducked out of the cab in a single motion. Door shifted in her seat, intending on following him, but he tossed the ball into the cab. It shattered against the floor, and a dusty, blue cloud burst from its innards. Realizing at once what it was, Door quickly covered her mouth and stood, but before she could escape, the Matrix agent slammed the door in her face. She stumbled backwards, coughing and sputtering into the cloud.

And then, she fell.

—

“Door? Door!”

With some effort, she opened her eyes. At first, all she could see was a peach and reddish-brown blob hovering above her, but slowly, as she blinked away her grogginess, the blob resolved into Geist’s face. He stared down at her with a worried expression—eyebrows knitted, eyes wide, mouth slightly open—but as soon as he saw her wake up, he relaxed.

“There you are,” he whispered. “Thank the gods.”

He reached into the ferris wheel’s cab and wrapped his arms around Door. She struggled weakly until he hushed her and pulled her out. Adjusting her in his arms, Geist turned and walked back, towards the open street…

…towards, much to Door’s dismay, a waiting collection consisting of Hilda, N, Rosa, and an older woman.

The older woman caught Door’s attention the most, despite Hilda’s presence. She was tall, lean, and clean, with short, white hair framing a thin face. Door only had to look at the shape of that face, the sparkle in those blue eyes, and the way the woman held herself to know who this was. Sure, she may have aged—gracefully compared to the rest of the gym leaders, Door thought—and sure, her sense of style had gone from scandalous electric yellows to a modern designer pinstripe suit beneath a heavy, black fur coat. Yet despite all of that, the air she held about her was unique. Not cold but graceful. Elegant. As dignified as a queen.

Which, truth be told, Elesa Priestly was, in a way. Or at least people thought she was, back when she was just starting as Nimbasa City’s gym leader.

Door instantly scrambled out of Geist’s arms and struggled to stand beside him while forcing herself to give the gym leader as dignified an expression as she could muster. She cleared her throat, puffed out her chest, and swung her arms in a circle at her sides, and all the while, she ignored Geist’s shifts in expression from relieved to surprised to absolutely dumbfounded.

“Uh, thanks for coming, guys,” she said, dropping her voice to what she thought was a low, mature-sounding level of gruffness. “I think I showed them, though.”

“Them?” Rosa asked.

“Oh, you know.” Door planted her hands on her hips, shifted her eyes to the ferris wheel, and blew her bangs out of her face. “Team Matrix. No big deal. They were a bunch of clowns. Not even the least bit threatening.”

Geist leaned towards her and said, “Door, Team Matrix knocked you out. Twice.”

Without letting her grin falter once, Door replied, “Shut up, Geist.”

At that, Elesa chuckled and turned to Hilda. “She reminds me of you when you were that age, sweetie.”

“And that’s why I like her,” Hilda responded. “So. What did they tell you?”

Door hesitated. Gradually, she shifted her gaze back to Hilda, and as soon as her eyes settled on the woman, she slumped her shoulders.

“I … um. It’s sort of crazy, actually,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me if I told you.”

“Oh, trust us, Door. Criminal organizations like Team Matrix have done stranger things,” Rosa said.

Door eyed Rosa for a second, weighing her options. Then, exhaling, she turned her head away.

“They told me what they were going to do,” she said. “They’re looking for Zekrom and Reshiram all right, but that’s just one part of it. The Electric Messiah’s not Zekrom like you said.”

N’s eyes flashed, and he turned to Rosa. “The Electric Messiah?”

Rosa shook her head. “Team Matrix said something about the Messiah leading them into a new age. But if it’s not Zekrom, then what is it?”

“That’s the part you’re not gonna believe,” Door said. “They want to take the dragons into the Entralink and use them to open portals to the Dream World. They said that’s how real pokémon have been popping up in Unova already, but they’re looking for the biggest portal so they can pull their Electric Messiah across into the reality.” She paused, lowering her chin a little. “Whatever that thing is, it’s dead.”

“Dead?” Hilda said quietly.

Door nodded. “Yeah. That’s what they’re really after: just … resurrecting the dead, I guess.” She looked up, directly at the four. “It’s … it’s crazy, right? They can’t do that.”

“No, they can’t,” the champion told her. “And anyway, even if they wanted to, they’re not going to get the dragons.”

Door shifted her gaze to meet Hilda’s. “Why do you say that?”

Hilda reached into her pocket and pulled out a very old, very battered object. It wasn’t like any poké ball Door had seen. Rather than the usual red and white, this one was purple on the top and gleaming silver on the bottom, with two pink bubbles jutting out of the violet half. Rosa glanced at Hilda, and she reached into one of the pockets of her trench coat to pull out a nearly identical object.

“Ever see anything like these?” Hilda asked.

Door stared at the spheres for a moment, then shook her head slowly.

“Master balls,” Geist said. “It’s not surprising that you’ve never seen one. They’re extremely rare. Even if Professor Ironwood had one, she wouldn’t have kept it in plain sight.” He eyed her. “And I do mean if she had _one_. Door, these are the only balls guaranteed to catch a pokémon; they will catch any pokémon, no matter how strong or healthy. You can even throw it at a legendary pokémon without even battling it first, and that legendary is as good as yours.” With that, he shifted his gaze back to the two women. “And if you’re showing them to us, then that means…”

“You’re pretty sharp,” Rosa said. “That’s right. Hilda and I are the legendary dragons’ chosen guardians. In this ball is the legendary dragon of truth, Reshriam, and in Hilda’s, the legendary dragon of ideals, Zekrom.”

“We never told anyone we _kept_ them for obvious reasons,” Hilda explained, “but we’ve traveled with the dragons for, oh, nearly fifty years now, I should say.”

“And that’s not about to change anytime soon,” Rosa continued. She pocketed her ball. “But it’s worrying, don’t you think? How long do you think it’ll take before Team Matrix realizes that repeating history won’t bring them any closer to the dragons?”

N narrowed his eyes. “And why would they believe that the Entralink will bring life to this region?”

He strode forward, right for Door. She froze, her wide eyes settling on N’s face as he stopped in front of her. With one hand, he reached into one of his pockets, and with the other, he took Door’s wrist. Turning her hand over, he placed a set of spheres in her palm.

“Team Matrix left these on the ferris board’s console,” he said.

Door gazed at her palm to see six poké balls in their retracted states. Raising her eyebrows, she blushed violently and cursed, realizing only now that she had almost forgotten about her pokémon in the confusion. She twisted away from N and stared down at her poké balls, quickly counting them to make sure Belle had kept her word. 

And then, she stopped.

“I spoke with your dewott and audino,” N said. “It’s comforting to know that they’re willing to do anything for you. You really do resemble Hilda in many ways; it’s no wonder that Team Matrix has chosen you to be her in their version of our story.” His expression darkened a little. “But I also worry. Your pokémon have no memories of their lives prior to a few months ago, which leads me to believe that what you say about the Dream World is true. You need to understand that not all of Team Plasma shared my desire for a better world. If they know real pokémon are coming from the Dream World … then I’m not sure what to make of that.”

Hilda pocketed Zekrom’s poké ball and gave her partner a concerned look. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Door, you’ve got to be careful. I don’t know what Team Matrix told you tonight, but if they really are copying Team Plasma, it was probably something that sounded real nice. Don’t fall for it, okay? And train up because the road ahead’s going to be full of battles from here on out. Defeating Team Plasma wasn’t a walk in the park for me, so doing the same to Team Matrix probably won’t be for you.”

Door nodded vaguely. “Y-yeah, no, I know that. Didn’t believe a word the guy said.” She shoved her poké balls towards Geist. “Geist, I need you to scan these. Right now.”

Geist blinked at her. “Scan them?”

“Tell me who’s in each one,” she said. “Just do it.”

He blinked at her but turned his palms skyward anyway. Opening the panels in his hands, he emitted a white glow from both pads and nodded to Door.

“Okay,” he said. “One at a time.”

With a curt nod of her own, she shoved the first one into the beams.

“Jack,” Geist said. “Next one.”

Door plucked the ball from the beam and replaced it with another one. She did this one by one, and Geist named each pokémon as they went. Storm. Knives. Huntress. Darumaka. Yamask.

And then, Door plucked the yamask’s ball from Geist’s beam. For a long while, the two looked at each other in silence.

“Is everything all right?” Rosa said.

“No,” Geist responded. “Door’s—”

“Fine,” Door interrupted.

Her Companion gave her another puzzled expression. She shoved her poké balls into her pockets and responded with a warning glare. Then, shaking her head, she turned to the others.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just wanted to make sure Team Matrix didn’t hurt anyone. Looks like everyone’s here and all right.”

Rosa placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head. “O-okay. I guess if you say so.”

Door nodded, then turned to Elesa. She had been quiet all this time, and Door didn’t think twice about that. But now, Door was just noticing it, just realizing that Elesa’s silence might have been a bad sign. Still, she stepped forward, closer to the gym leader.

“Elesa,” she said. “I’m Door Hornbeam of Nuvema City, and I officially challenge you to a gym battle.”

For a quiet moment, Elesa continued to regard Door carefully. She eyed the girl up and down, then drew in a slow breath. Days ago, Door might have shifted uncomfortably on her feet under the weight of that gaze, but now, after all that had happened in so little time, she stood tall and confident, with her hands balled into fists at her sides … even though she was downright terrified at that very moment.

And then, Elesa gave Door the most brilliant, dazzling smile she had ever seen—a smile that stretched across a pair of elegantly glossed lips, a smile that parted just enough to reveal a set of perfect, white teeth.

It was a smile that, frankly, made Door shake just a little.

“N is right,” she said. “Door, was it? It’s great to meet you. It really is, and believe me when I say I’m _positively electrified_ by the prospect of battling you at some point.”

Rosa groaned and slapped her forehead. “Still on with the puns, Elesa?”

“What can I say?” Elesa asked. “Just because I’m Unova’s topmost fashion expert doesn’t mean I can’t have fun now and then.”

She sauntered towards Door, her body moving gracefully beneath her fur coat. At the sight of her, Door relaxed her hands and swallowed a ball of cold saliva. Door’s body felt like it was getting hotter the closer Elesa came, and when the gym leader stared down at her, arms crossed and blue eyes sparkling, Door shuddered with nervousness. The bravado she had mustered was a thing of the past, replaced only by the internal screaming of a fangirl. And that screaming was only amplified when Elesa placed a meticulously manicured hand on her shoulder. 

“My point is, Door, that I want to see you at your best. You’re about to embark on an incredible journey, and I’m excited to be a part of it,” she said. “But if you’re going to be taking on Team Matrix, I want to make sure you’ve trained as hard as you could right here in Nimbasa first.” She bucked her head, tossing gray hair away from her face as she nodded towards the end of the street. “To the east, you’ll find Lostlorn Forest. There isn’t much left there, but it’s still teeming with enough fauxkémon to sharpen your skills. If that’s not enough, Nimbasa has plenty of arenas full of trainers. Come to me after you’ve gone through one or both, and then we’ll talk about gym battles.”

With one final squeeze, Elesa turned and started down the street, for the old gym.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, “it’s my duty as a gym leader to assist Agent Alvarado in her investigation any way that I can. That includes thoroughly looking into what they were using my old gym for, doesn’t it?”

Rosa froze and hastily nodded. “R-right. Lead the way, Elesa!” Then, as she jogged past Door, she gave the trainer a thumbs up. “Good seeing you again, Hornbeam! Keep up the good work!”

She followed Elesa, and the two of them rounded the corner and entered the gym. A moment later, Door felt another hand grasp her shoulder, and she half-turned to find Hilda grinning down at her.

“Elesa seems to have taken a liking to you.” Hilda bobbed her head from side to side. “Of course, that’s not difficult. She likes everyone, really.”

Then, slowly, her smile faded, and she swung her eyes back towards the ferris wheel. Door didn’t follow her gaze, opting instead to let her eyes linger on the champion’s face. She knew that Hilda was a few years younger than Elesa, but she looked older—more tired.

“Hey, N?” she asked.

“Yes?” he answered.

“I’m going to need you to help me with something,” she continued. “I think Zekrom should know about this, at least.”

“Mm.” N nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I agree. Not here, though.”

“No, of course not.” Hilda paused. “We’ll find a place. In the meantime…”

She patted Door’s shoulder again, and Door found herself gazing into Hilda’s reassuring face once more.

“You get stronger yet?” Hilda asked.

Knowing that her hero had held her shoulder for the past few minutes, Door forced herself to swallow her nervousness. “Uh … yeah! ‘Course I have!”

“Good.” Hilda squeezed Door’s shoulders and let her eyelids fall a little. “Listen, Door. Keep up the good work, all right? Take Elesa’s advice and train a little first. It’s going to get rougher from here on out. I lost a lot of friends on my journey—a lot of good pokémon, way back before repairable fauxkémon existed. I know how hard it is to go through that. So get strong. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

With that, she patted Door’s shoulder one last time, then pushed away. Shoving her own hands into her pockets, she walked down the street. Behind her, N regarded Door one last time before jogging after his partner, and together, they disappeared past the gate to the abandoned amusement park, into the bustle and lights of Nimbasa City.

Door waited a few more moments before shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

“You think they know?” she asked.

“That Team Matrix has stolen one of your pokémon? Of course they know,” Geist sighed. “They probably even know that one of your pokémon is dead, given that the storage system let you keep seven occupied poké balls at once. So in all, the question is: why didn’t you tell them?”

She huffed and began walking away, only to have Geist quickly catch up to her. He didn’t stop her, however. Merely planted a hand on her shoulder and walked alongside her. To her own surprise, Door realized that she didn’t feel like shrugging him off.

“Door,” Geist said. “Why didn’t you tell Rosa? She’s an agent of the International Police. She needs to know.”

“About what? Scout’s dead,” Door said. “Who cares?”

“Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he doesn’t matter,” Geist replied. “Even you think so. You just said so yourself—dead, not deactivated. You acknowledge that there was something in him that—”

“A machine can be dead,” Door growled.

“And you wouldn’t have been as shocked as you were if you meant it like that,” Geist pointed out. “You were disturbed when you realized Scout was missing.”

“Of course I’d be. What the hell would Belle want with a dead, fake watchog?” Door snapped. “You know what’s in that thing? Every pokémon has an aura engine, Geist. You overload the aura engine, you end up with a rather nifty explosive device. A rather nifty explosive device that can walk right into a public area without anyone thinking twice about it.”

Geist frowned. “Oh yes. I’m well aware of that. That’s why I tried to tell Rosa. What was your excuse for _not_ telling her?”

Door glared at him for a few beats. Then, she turned away, finally pulling out of his grip. Geist let her walk a few steps before striding forward to catch up once more. All the while, Door shoved her hands into her pockets and closed her fingers around her remaining six poké balls. Her eyes lingered on the cracked pavement for a few more steps, then swept up, into the glittering facade of Nimbasa. Some part of her, deep inside, wanted to relax, wanted to enjoy the idea of being halfway through her journey and facing the city home to a gym leader Hilda King had personally battled. But the lights just seemed gaudy and blinding to her now, like rainbow-colored sunlight up close, and her eyes ached with exhaustion.

What time was it, even? Door didn’t know. All she knew was that she had spent the better part of the day nearly full-tilt running from Castelia to Nimbasa, and she couldn’t even _enjoy_ her journey if she wanted to because of this stupid _Matrix_ business and all this talk about Companions and fauxkémon and freedom and things that were too big for her to think about on who even knew how many hours of sleep.

Well, she knew this … and the fact that Geist had his hand on her shoulder again. And this time, he forced her to stop.

“Door?” he asked.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” she asked quietly.

“Who?” Geist responded.

“Oppenheimer.”

She tore her eyes away from the city to stare at Geist. Then, she lowered her gaze back to her feet.

“Oh. Right. You weren’t there,” she said.

There was a moment’s pause before Geist spoke next, and when he did, his voice was low and quiet. “Tell me.”

Door took a deep breath. “Already did. But it’s like … it was the way he said it, you know? I-I didn’t mention this part, but Oppenheimer was going on about how this dead messiah guy was gonna make everyone be equal and whatever, but if I went along with it, they’d return the favor by resurrecting pokémon.” She lifted her chin. “You don’t think it’s true, do you? It’s … it’s not possible to do something like that … right? I mean … you-you worked with Dr. Fennel, right? You worked with all those real pokémon. They … Jack and Knives aren’t … are they?”

“Aren’t what?”

“You know. Zombies?”

Geist snorted. “Zombies? No. The Dream World is exactly what the name implies: a place where dreams are reality. Or some alternate dimension heavily influenced by dreams, anyway. It’s never been well understood, I’m afraid. But in any case, it’s known that everything in the Dream World is alive or some manifestation of living dreams. The dead can’t dream themselves back to life, Door.”

He hesitated, then tilted his head, as if to weigh his response.

“Of course, I suppose that’s not exactly accurate either,” he said. “It’s possible for someone to dream vividly enough while in the vicinity of dream smoke to manifest a figure from their own past—the dead included. There are no limitations on what can be created with dream smoke; that’s why it’s such a dangerous substance and why it’s important to Dr. Fennel, myself, and any researcher like us to study it. However…” He lowered his gaze, tilting his chin down to study Door again. “This sort of method would need to have a purpose. It wouldn’t make sense to create perfect replicas of an oshawott and an audino, only to abandon them. But if Oppenheimer truly meant this about their messiah—which is very likely, I admit—then they must want something big. Something specific and important.”

Throughout his explanation, Door forced herself to look into his eyes. Now, after he had come to that conclusion, she took a shuddering breath and tore her eyes away.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s—”

“Not all,” Geist interrupted.

She glanced back at him cautiously. As soon as he met her gaze again, Geist let his shoulders sag.

“Door, about what Oppenheimer said … concerning a reward for helping them,” he said. “No matter how much you want it to be, dream smoke isn’t a solution. Giving in to Team Matrix’s demands isn’t worth it, and dream smoke won’t fix what happened to Scout. And on that note, you must understand that what happened to Scout was not your fault—nor anyone else’s, for that matter. What happened to Scout was an accident, and bringing him back to life or letting Team Matrix have him won’t take away the guilt you feel.”

At once, Door’s wary expression turned to one of rage. She shoved her arm into Geist to push him away, and then, she turned back towards the gate.

“Who said I was guilty?”

“No one did, but you’re acting like you are,” Geist replied.

Door tightened her hands into fists. “Stop trying to put words in my mouth! It’s not like that!”

“All right.”

Stopping, Door let her muscles relax in surprise, and she glanced back at Geist. He stood there, arms crossed, shoulders relaxed, and head tilted with a sympathetic look plastered on it. Door clicked her tongue and turned back around.

“Listen, I…” She stopped and slouched. “I don’t think … I mean … you’re not…”

“It’s okay, Door,” Geist said. “You don’t have to be ready to tell me anything yet. I know how you feel about Companions. Just know that whenever you’re ready and whenever you need help, I’ll be here.”

She huffed and shook her head, then started forward. Listening intently, she felt a strange sort of relief when she heard Geist’s footsteps on the pavement.

And … she realized that wasn’t the only time she felt relief. Just for a second, when she woke up, when she saw Geist’s face above hers…

She was glad he was okay. Not as glad as she was whenever she saw Blair, sure, but a strange sort of glad. The kind of glad someone felt when seeing a close friend by their side.

Did she really think of Geist as a friend by then? Geist, some kind of humanoid robot, a thing completely incapable of feeling?

Then again … back at the Relic Castle, when he saved her, how did she feel?

She didn’t want to answer. The answer was right there, actually, right in plain sight, but she didn’t want to put it into words. So she shook her head and walked on, with one final, almost lighthearted command to her partner.

“Shut up, Geist.”

—

_> URANIA.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, mass production notes, day 12. I’ve come up with a name, by the way. Companion, a portmanteau of computer and … companion._

_I’ll-I’ll phrase that better for the marketing team._

_That’s not the only thing I’ve named, by the way. The series of mass-produced Companions I’d designed specifically for trainers is called Calliope, after the muse of epic poetry. This is to differentiate them from the new class of Companion commissioned by the Pokémon Symposium._

_See, a few researchers expressed interest in working alongside a high-powered, high-memory Companion capable of not only storing a massive amount of data but also handling sophisticated research software, and, well, who can say no to the Pokémon Symposium? Anyway, I needed to figure out a solution rather quickly before I lost their interest, so all I did was swap out the personality core for another memory core. The end result is … well, she’s not exactly a conversationalist, but she’s fast—far faster than any of the Calliopes my production team is putting out. And I think that’s a fair balance; most other researchers might not appreciate a Companion as loquacious as Calliope … and certainly not one as odd as Zero-One. So I’ve considered this a success and shipped the plans off to production with the series name Urania._

_Get it? Urania, muse of astronomy? I thought it would be fitting to give each type of Companion a name to indicate their specializations, and maybe it would be rather fun to name them after the muses and see how many roles I can fill, so to speak. And I know it’s silly, but I’ve always liked this part of the process. Names can tell a user a lot about a thing’s purpose—or its designer, for that matter. Take the storage system, for example. Each version has a different name, and each name tells you a lot about who designed it or which region it was initially deployed to. Versions developed in Sinnoh were named after gemstones like diamond and pearl because Bebe liked secretly liked Hearthome’s super contests, my versions were always named after constellations like Draco and Cetus to reflect my interest in astronomy, and Bill named his versions after flowers because … actually, he never really told me why. I guess it had something to do with his interest in gardening … or the fact that he owned a venusaur. I’m not sure._

_Of course, no one ever used these names. That’s because Bill always had to be so serious in his update announcements. It wasn’t Foxglove; it was Version 1.2.0. But contrary to what any of the others said, it wasn’t as if he hated the naming system. Or at least I don’t think he did. Behind closed doors, he used to tease me about it—not in a mean way, of course. More like, “Hey, this is really cute! Now if only you could stick with an organizational system in your lab.” I wish I could get that tone across. It was like … that half-annoying sort of way, like when your brother teases you, and you know he cares, but he shows it by getting a rise out of you._

_I don’t even know if that made sense, but the point is, I knew Bill was making fun of my lack of housekeeping skills, but honestly? He should have been one to talk, and in any case, it really wasn’t that offensive. I know I can get so focused on my work I forget to clean up now and then, and I know I’ve actually lost things under papers and whatnot. But that’s not relevant to naming things, you know? Taxonomy and housekeeping are not mutually exclusive concepts._

_Anyway, at least now I’ve got Zero-One to take care of one of those two things. And he doesn’t tease me about … well, about…_

_I guess I do miss Bill’s comments. He’d probably have something clever to say about me going off and naming all the different versions of Companions. Probably like, “Huh. After all those star names you came up with, I’m a little surprised you’re going with something easy.” Well, you know what, Bill? We’re going to name them after muses, and there’s nothing you can do about it._

_[pause]_

_Really wish you could, though._

_[end recording]_


	26. Lostlorn Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door and Geist work together (for once).

Somewhere in Nimbasa City, in the early morning two days after Team Matrix attacked the abandoned amusement park, an alarm went off in Geist’s head, and he awoke at once. His eyes snapped open, his senses calibrated, and his body whirred to life. And as he reached up to pull a cord out of his neck, he looked about the room, processes whirring in confusion until his silicon brain settled on the notification that had pulled him out of sleep mode. Moments later, Geist stormed out of the pokémon center, ignoring the startled nursing Companion he nearly bowled over en route. In his head, he had already summoned a map of Nimbasa. He wasn’t at all surprised to see a number of tiny red dots flashing close to its edge. Tiny red dots that all matched the poké balls of novice trainer Door Hornbeam.

Door did not see any of this, even though she was the cause of her partner’s panic. To be fair, she was too busy watching Knives drive a liepard into the ground. 

The liepard squealed both mechanically and with the recorded scream of its real, living counterpart before falling still on the pavement beneath Knives’s glowing, pink fist. As soon as her prey fell still, Knives stood tall and smiled at her trainer, and Door walked forward and inspected her audino’s work. As she stared down at the battered and broken fauxkémon, Door’s mouth circled the straw of a large iced coffee and sucked up another sip, rattling the ice at the bottom of her plastic up enough to break the silence. Once she swallowed down her drink, she pulled the straw away and licked her lips.

“Not bad,” she said. “Man, Knives. A fully evolved pokémon, and you took it out in, what, only a few hits? Not bad at all.”

She reached down to rub the spot between Knives’s ears. The rabbit squeaked and twisted, pressing her head into Door’s hand. Door pulled away and wandered a few steps down Route 16 with her lips around the straw again. She chewed the straw’s plastic tip in thought as she gazed out towards the field of grass. Already, trainers were starting into the prairie, jumping off the road and into the wild far behind Door. She, meanwhile, had left early, after only a few hours’ worth of sleep, and as far as she was concerned, it was worth it to avoid the rush. Door narrowed her eyes at the masses pulling away from Nimbasa’s entrance to flood the fields, and she wondered how many of them would be facing Elesa soon.

“Come on, Knives,” she said as she took her first steps forward. “Elesa told us to get as far as Lostlorn Forest. Might as well go see what’s over there.” Clamping down on her straw, she huffed and muttered, “Hopefully some peace and quiet.”

But just as she turned to leave and just as Knives trotted forward to catch up with her, Door heard a menacing, feline growl, and she stopped, her lips contracting around the straw in response to the low hiss. Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder, then cried out and stumbled out of the way of a violet and cream blur as it flew past her. Knives shrieked as the liepard she had supposedly defeated leapt onto her and tackled her to the ground. Its muzzle twisted in a fang-filled snarl, and one of its paws rose and extended three-inch-long just a short distance from Knives’s face. Knives squealed and instantly swung one of her hands up to block the liepard’s attack, and for the next half a minute, the liepard could only yowl and push against its prey.

And then, without thinking twice, Door threw a poké ball. The ball smacked the liepard in the back of the head, sucked it inside, and dropped to the pavement beyond Knives’s shoulder, and she scrambled to her feet and swung her fist up in preparation for another Secret Power. Almost as soon as she had, the ball exploded, and the liepard dove at Knives with a howl and all of its claws extended and aimed at Knives’s face. But as the liepard came in, Knives ducked and swung, slamming her fist into the cat’s chest. The liepard shrieked and flew backwards, back into the pavement, crashing down harder than it had a moment ago. Shakily, it stood, its body sparking as it flashed its eyes at Knives.

But Door was there first. Taking a step forward, Door pitched a second poké ball. The cat howled and turned to run, but the ball hit it in the shoulder, cracked open, and sucked it in. This time, Door’s poké ball dropped to the ground, where it shook once … twice … and three times before falling still with a ping.

Door waited for a few seconds, her eyes glued to the ball for any sign of movement. But when nothing happened, she exhaled with relief., took a sip of her coffee, and snorted at Knives.

“Geez, talk about catty, am I right?” she asked with a wink.

As if in response, the ball flashed with a brilliant, white light and vanished. Door and Knives swiveled their heads back towards it, just in time to see it go, and for the next minute, they stared blankly at the empty space the ball had once occupied.

Finally, Door groaned.

“Oh. Right. I’m carrying six live pokémon,” she muttered. “Crap.”

Knives cocked her head and trilled inquisitively at her trainer, and Door gave her an almost apologetic look before starting down the road again.

“Uh, not that you’d get it because you’re a pokémon and all, but lemme see if I can explain it,” she said. “Long ago, old, probably white guys decided that trainers can’t carry more than six pokémon. I don’t know why. Grandma or Dad probably explained it, but frankly, I wasn’t listening. The point is, if a trainer caught more than six, those extra pokémon needed someplace to go, so an old, dead guy and my aunt, Lanette, invented a way to store them on the internet using forbidden black magicks or something. I might not have been paying attention to that either. Long story short, Liepard’s safe but uploaded to a computer. Understand?”

The noise Knives made in response indicated to Door that she did not.

“You know what? Never mind,” Door said with a shrug. “Come on, girl. Onward to Lostlorn Forest!”

And with that, she trudged on, leading her audino along the relatively short path to the entrance of the forest.

Or “forest,” as the case may have been. The field and copses of trees she had hiked through to chase down her new liepard were all artificially planted, not that anyone would be able to tell at first glance. The greenery had been placed just randomly enough to look natural, and the winding paths between them were covered with grass at just the right height to look wild. But all of it came up to the straight, paved road too neatly and stopped too short in the distance to be real, and that was what bothered Door. It was a nice gesture, now that she thought about it, to have something that at least looked wild, even though she knew there were Companions hiding among the trees, just waiting to plant new growths or water the ones already there.

But the point was that it was a nice alternative to Lostlorn Forest.

Which didn’t exist.

She had seen pictures of the aftermath. Way back when, Lostlorn Forest was the closest point to the Entralink: a small, wild scar that thrust up into the border between the rest of Unova and the dreamlike wilderness. And then, the Entralink collapsed in on itself, and Lostlorn Forest felt the shockwaves. The last pictures Door had seen of the place depicted a wasteland framed neatly by a chain-link fence.

Truth be told, she wasn’t particularly looking forward to going there, especially with just her pokémon. Door would have liked some human or humanoid company as she traversed the wilderness … but she couldn’t take Geist. Not after the night she had just gone through. She needed time to herself to think, to take out all her aggression and frustration on whatever hapless wild pokémon crossed her path.

And besides, Lostlorn Forest was a wasteland. A tiny, gated one at that. What could possibly be inside that she would need his help on?

The trees and grass gave way abruptly to a sandy plain. Door pressed onward, through the tree line and onto a dusty road. She walked, trying her hardest not to be bothered by the heat or dirt, as she focused solely on the gate yards ahead.

In front of it was a small, wooden booth, barely large enough for any human to comfortably sit for hours on end. When she approached, the door on the side opened up, and a figure in a tan security guard’s uniform stepped out. It looked like a soldier at first, tall and heavily built, in a crisply pressed shirt and pants and recently shined boots. But as she got closer, she realized this was just a security guard—one built like a football player on steroids.

Literally built. The man was apparently a Companion, judging by his glowing, blue eyes.

Door hesitated barely a yard away from the gate. She swallowed hard as she looked at the Companion and the booth beside him. There was no sign of any human being there. Just the booth that, from her vantage point, she realized contained just a generator, a chair, and a recharge cable. Door mentally kicked herself at the sight of both the Companion and the contents of his station. Of _course_ the gate would be unmanned. Having a Companion there meant no need for supplies, no need for monitoring, no need for waiting around for communication. So long as this Companion had very clear, very simple orders, he could operate without supervision for months on end, with no breaks or changing of the guard. Heck, she was sure he didn’t even use the rickety chair in the booth. He must have stood in front of his station twenty-four hours a day, just waiting for trainers who wanted to get past his gate.

So it was understandable that Door was both put off and intimidated, even just slightly. She took a deep breath to steady herself and thought her situation through again. Best case scenario was that Elesa had phoned ahead and told this Companion or his superiors that Door would be coming and that she should be let in. Worst case scenario was that Door would end up snapped in half by the Companion’s massive hands. She had to be careful. Diplomatic. Smooth.

Door walked up to the gate, planted her hands on her hips, and gave the guard as cool and calm a look as possible. She could do diplomatic and smooth.

“Yo, what’s up? Door Hornbeam. How ya doin’?” she said.

The Companion looked at her for a long moment, his eyes never dimming or wavering. And then, he held out his hands, palms out, holographic pads exposed.

“Present your trainer’s license for identification,” he intoned.

His voice was robotic. Even-toned. Expressionless. Door hesitated. She knew he was one of the Companions who didn’t have much in the way of a personality core, which meant she had no guarantees that the worst case scenario wouldn’t be happening.

With that in mind, she cracked a nervous smile. “Uh, yeah, don’t have it.”

The Companion’s palms snapped shut, and he lowered his arms. His hands balled into tight, massive fists that rested at his sides, in plain view of Door. She glanced down at one of the Companion’s fists and realized that his fist was literally half the size of her head.

“Only registered trainers are authorized beyond this point,” the guard told her. “No license, no entry.”

“Okay, but I was sent here by Elesa, the gym leader of Nimbasa City,” Door said. “She told me I could train here. Isn’t that good enough?”

The Companion frowned at her, but it wasn’t like a human’s shift in expression. It almost looked like something in his face dropped, as if he was a marionette puppet whose strings were released abruptly.

“No license, no entry,” he repeated.

Against her better judgment, Door took a deep breath and clasped her hands together. Leaning in, she mustered up everything she had within her to give the guard her best puppy dog eyes.

“C’mon!” she begged. “Can’t you just call Elesa and confirm that I’m allowed to be here? Please?”

The Companion stomped forward. Door flinched, startled by how quickly the machine had come to a decision. He picked her up by her shoulders, lifting her off her feet and holding her at arm’s length. Knives responded with a squeal, followed by latching onto the Companion and biting him in the knee. He didn’t seem affected by it as he carried Door several meters away from the gate. There, halfway between the gate and the trees, he set her down, then pulled Knives off his leg by the scruff of her neck and dropped her on the ground in front of her trainer.

“No license, no entry,” he repeated.

He turned and walked back to the gate, where he whirled around and stood, hands folded behind his back. Door blinked a few times, then grit her teeth and folded her arms.

“Can you believe musclehead over there?! What a prick!” she shouted. Then, lowering the volume of her voice, she glanced at Knives. “Don’t worry. That’s a chain link fence. You know what those are, right?”

Knives—who had, shortly after being deposited unceremoniously at Door’s feet, blinked away her rage—stared up at Door with a tilted head and an inquisitive trill. Smiling broadly, Door gave her the thumbs up.

“It’s a poor but fantastically climbable barrier between well-meaning youths like me and places that shady adults like gearhead over there say we shouldn’t go,” she explained. “Which means I’ve got a plan.”

She took no fewer than three steps before a hand grabbed her shoulder roughly. Stopping short, she looked up, directly into the face of her Companion. Geist glared down at her, stony and serious, before sliding his hand down to her wrist and jerking her forward.

Door’s voice caught in her throat. She wanted to say something—either to ask what Geist thought he was doing or to acknowledge his quiet rage and beg for his forgiveness—but she couldn’t. She could only follow him as he pulled her roughly towards the gate. Geist said nothing. He kept his eyes focused on the guard ahead, and whenever Door had a chance to glance at him, he kept his lips pressed together and his face tight. Even Knives, who was padding quietly behind them with soft hums, knew better than to stop the Companion. Geist was on the warpath for reasons Door couldn’t figure out, but she knew in every fiber of her being that she was the reason for it.

It was only when they were within feet of the guard that he spoke, after stopping and pulling Door to his side.

“I apologize for the actions of my assigned trainer, whatever that might have entailed. My name is Series Alpha Zero-One, unit name Geist. This is my partner Door Hornbeam of Nuvema City.” He lifted his hands and held them, palms out, pads exposed. “Here are my registration credentials and her trainer’s license. I hope this will be sufficient for entry.”

The guard lifted his own hands and leveled the exposed pads of his palms with Geist’s. Beams of light flashed between them briefly, and then, the guard snapped his panels shut and reached for his temple. Dropping his other arm, he stepped to the side while the gate banged and whirred open.

“Catch or battle whatever you wish. Do not interact with dream bubbles. Do not climb the back fence. You have one hour. If you do not return to the main gate within that time, a search party will be contacted, and you will be detained if they succeed in retrieving you,” the guard recited. “Understood?”

Door glanced at Geist. “ _If_ they succeed in retrieving us?”

“Understood,” Geist responded evenly, without bothering to acknowledge Door.

“Then you may proceed,” the guard replied. “Good luck, trainer.”

Geist reached down to grab Door by the wrist, then led her into Lostlorn Forest. Knives followed behind, and they continued up the path until the gate closed behind them.

The inside was worse than the dusty field between the trees and the gate outside. There was almost nothing there, save for an entire forest of twisted, naked trees that stretched their black branches to the sky. Between them, the only other thing of note was the ash. Even decades after the collapse of the Entralink, white ash covered the spaces between trees like fallen snow, blowing up in drifts to reveal pockmarks and craters where there once were clearings and brush.

“Whoa,” Door breathed. “It’s…”

She looked back at Geist. At the very least, he was no longer glaring at her. Instead, he was standing still, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

And suddenly, Door felt guilty.

“Oh. Um.” She rubbed the back of her neck and tore her eyes away. “Look, I … you’re probably waiting for me to apologize.”

Geist tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows with a puzzled wince—as if Door had just said something incredibly stupid, and he was trying to figure out how it was possible for her to _be_ that stupid.

And at that, she groaned in exasperation. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t leave you behind because I wanted to ditch you or anything! I just…” She lowered her hand. “I just needed some time by myself. That’s all.”

Her Companion raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s so!” Door exhaled sharply. “Look, I know we keep clashing, but I know that I need you for this … whatever I’m on. It’s just … after last night, I just needed some time to think.”

“And you couldn’t think with me around?” Geist asked.

“No,” Door answered. “It’s … it’s a human thing. Sometimes, we just need some time by ourselves, okay? I know that sounds like an excuse, but it’s not. I swear.”

After a few seconds of silence, Door looked up to see Geist walking towards her, his eyebrows still furrowed. Pulling his arms apart, he extended one hand towards Door. She flinched, willing herself to stay still until she felt something come down with a pat on the top of her head. As soon as she felt that touch, she opened her eyes to see Geist standing inches from her, his hand on her head and his face leaning in close to hers.

“I know you’re being honest because you’re a terrible liar,” he said.

He flashed a grin at her and winked, then pulled himself away. Walking ahead, he folded his hands behind his back and lifted his chin, and in the shadows of the ash-covered forest, Door could see a blue light flicker from his eyes. Glancing back at Knives, Door shrugged, then signaled for her pokémon to follow, and the two of them trotted up to the Companion’s side.

“So, uh, about the whole … morning,” she said.

“You caught a liepard. Impressive,” Geist replied.

“I—how did you know?” Door asked.

He gave her a strange smile. “Door, I’ve got a direct connection to your storage system account. How did you think I found you in the first place?”

“Oh.” Door winced at her own stupidity. “Right.”

“In any case, yes, I forgive you,” Geist said. “Largely because I know it wouldn’t do much good to tell you yet again why you need to stop running off without me.”

Door snorted and crossed her own arms with a pout. “Come on. At least this time, I wasn’t doing it because I hate you or anything.”

“I believe you,” Geist replied. “But was it worth it?”

“Up until Big McLargehuge tried to kick me out of this place,” Door grumbled as she narrowed her eyes at the path behind her.

“Terpsichore units,” Geist replied. “Designed for security, military, and similar functions.” He flashed a grin at her. “Very obedient but … built to be large and strong, to put it as gently as possible.”

Door snickered at that. “Wow. You _do_ have a sense of humor somewhere in there.”

Geist shrugged. “I never liked Terpsichore units myself—our mutual friend, Starr, included. They’re not particularly interesting. Urania units such as Opal, however, at least those can hold a conversation.” He eyed her. “But that’s not what I meant by asking you whether or not it was worth it. Did you have time to think?”

“You know that’s an expression, right?”

“Of course I know. I’m simply offering a listening ear, should you want one.” Geist shifted his gaze to the path ahead of him. “Last night was a long one for the both of us, after all.”

Door stumbled at the revelation of something important. In all that time, Oppenheimer had answered—or darted around—several different questions at once, but looking back on the conversation she had endured with him, she realized the man had outright ignored one particular issue. And now that Door thought about it, that issue should have been just as important as her purpose in their plan.

That issue was, of course, a simple one. Where was _Geist’s_ place in all of this?

Or, more specifically, what they were looking for in his memories?

“H-hey, Geist?” Door asked.

He didn’t turn around, but his voice softened, as if he knew what she was about to ask. “Yes?”

“How much do you remember of last night?” Door said slowly.

Geist stopped. He studied her, his eyes still glowing eerily, but Door didn’t look away.

“I’m sorry, Door, but I was in sleep mode for most of that encounter. I don’t remember much at all,” he admitted.

She shook her head. “No, it’s-it’s not your fault. But, uh, does that mean you don’t know what Magdalene was digging into?”

Taking what sounded like a deep breath, Geist reached up to press his fingers to the side of his head. “No, not exactly. I was just as disturbed as you were when I realized what had happened. I have logs of her attempts to access my memories, but what’s strange is she didn’t spend much time at all in my memory core. It was as if the second she discovered my LFA core, nothing else mattered.” He removed his hand. “Not that her time was well spent after that point. The LFA core is under heavy encryption. Even I can’t access its contents. And according to my access logs, that record has yet to be broken by anyone other than Dr. Fennel.”

Door had gone silent during his explanation, and it wasn’t out of politeness. She stared at him blankly for a few seconds after he had finished, her mind struggling to grip one important detail.

“Your … LFA core?” she asked.

“Ah, very observant of you,” Geist said.

He extended a hand to her, palm up. Twitching his fingers, he let the panel slide open and his holographic projector flicker to life. Between them, a screen appeared, displaying what looked like the generic outline of a man. Door squinted, staring at the three spheres within it.

“I don’t know much about myself or what sort of data I contained prior to my time with Dr. Fennel, but I do know that the only file I could access on my local drives was a user’s manual—not the usual kind, either,” Geist explained. “For starters, this is an extremely simple blueprint of my core configuration. Notice anything odd?”

Door stared at it, but it didn’t take her long at all to figure out what he meant. Even though she took no interest in Companions before her journey, she knew the absolute basics. Including the minimum number of cores a Companion was supposed to have.

“How do you only have three cores?” she asked.

“Digital, memory, and the LFA,” Geist replied. “I don’t know exactly, but I’ve had time to develop theories in the few years I’ve been active. I think the LFA was a prototype core that combines the personality, morality, and emotion cores into a singular cognitive engine. It may be why I’m able to emote far more accurately than any other Companion; I don’t need to go through the same cross-checking other Companions face. It’s all done in a single core, rather than across three.”

He closed his hand, shutting the projector off abruptly. Door fixed her eyes on his closed fist as questions boiled in her brain.

“But … it works,” she said. “I-I think.”

Geist put his hand on his hip. “I think so too.”

She lifted her chin to stare into his eyes. “But then why use the five-core system? Wouldn’t it make sense to just use the LFA core with the digital and memory?”

“It would be more efficient, yes,” Geist said. “And it seems to work better than the five-core configuration.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know. Neither does Dr. Fennel. She knows I have three cores, and she’s tried to ask your grandmother why, believe me. But … no one has ever explained to her why Lanette didn’t implement this system in any other Companion.”

Door frowned. “And … that doesn’t bother you?”

Geist slumped his shoulders and threw his hands up in a resigned shrug. “Of course it bothers me. At the very least, not knowing how or why I work the way I do means not knowing whether or not I’m truly stable. I could catch fire for all I know, or I could be heading straight for a motherboard failure a few years earlier than the standard units. The less I know about myself, the more I have to worry about how long I have before everything that makes me who I am right now breaks.”

He paused to give her a steady look. Door froze, unable to tear her eyes away, as she waited for his next words. And when those words came, they were slow, low, and quiet.

“The truth is,” he said, “the only reason why I’m calm about it is that some things are inevitable. Even Companions aren’t meant to last forever. The whole point of existing is doing what you can with what time you have. And I intend on doing something good.” As soon as her Companion finished, Door felt her expression shift. Her jaw opened slightly, and her face relaxed, right into a sympathetic frown. Then, a few seconds later, she pulled her gaze away and frowned at the base of a tree.

“Wow. Geist, um…” She trailed off with a hard swallow.

In return, he chuckled. “You know, this is the first time you’ve been this interested in what my thoughts were since we were in the Striaton City pokémon center.”

Door scowled now, her face burning with an embarrassed blush. “Well, it’s important, isn’t it? If Team Matrix is after you and all.”

“They’re after you as well,” Geist replied. “They need someone to summon Zekrom and Reshiram, remember? It’s true that Hilda and Rosa hold them both, but we can’t say for certain that Team Matrix knows that.”

At that, Door nodded weakly. “Um … yeah. That’s true.”

“Right. So it’s imperative that you be prepared for anything.” Geist turned his gaze back to the forest and brought a hand to his temple. The blue light in his eyes brightened as he scanned the spaces between the trees. “That said, Door, let’s start with finding something you can bat—”

“Do you remember anything about my great aunt?” she interrupted.

With a jolt, Geist whirled back around to face her. He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise, but the quickness and steadiness in his next words told her he was telling her the complete truth—that he wasn’t shocked by her question but rather caught off-guard by its very existence.

“No,” he said. “I was wiped clean before I came to live with Dr. Fennel, remember?”

Door frowned. “So … you don’t remember anything about my great aunt sinning or something?”

“What?”

“You know,” she said. “Did my aunt … do anything bad?”

Geist regarded her carefully. She watched as the blue light in his eyes flickered, as digital circles contracted and expanded within his iris—as he, quite literally, analyzed her. Yet somehow, that didn’t bother her as much as it had two days ago. She didn’t think of him as human—and she thought she might never get to that point—but something about him was different. Separate from other Companions. Relatable and alive.

She lingered on that in the silence. It was silly, but that was the best way she could think to describe it. Geist seemed too alive somehow, in ways she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Door,” Geist said at last. “I may be biased when I say this, but as far as I’m concerned, your family has never done anything wrong. Your great aunt strove to make this world a better place by filling it with wondrous inventions right up to her death, and your grandmother has done everything she could to keep Lanette’s dream alive.”

Taking a deep breath, Door let his words sink in. “But how do you know?”

Geist frowned. “I just know.” He tilted his head. “Is that what was bothering you?”

“Great detective work, Mr. Supercomputer.”

Smirking, Geist reached out to lay a heavy hand on his partner’s shoulder. “I see. I think I’m learning a lot about you, Door Hornbeam.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna ask you what you mean by that,” Door said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Spot any pokémon?”

Finally returning to his usual, professional attitude, Geist dropped his smile and shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. Nothing except Knives, who is—”

He lifted his eyes towards a spot between the trees, and as soon as he did, horrified expression swept across his face. Without warning, he grabbed Door’s wrist and bolted, half dragging and half leading her along the forest path. She cried out and gave him an earful of choice curses, but when she realized he wasn’t about to stop, she focused completely on following him instead. Her feet slammed painfully into the ground, one after another, and her muscles burned with exertion not long after they had started running. Door was never one to consider herself in good shape, but this went beyond physical limitations due to poor health. Geist was full-tilt running in his panic. To Door, who had no choice but to stumble behind him, that run hurt, but she knew it meant something.

Namely, something was wrong. That much was obvious. But it took a second to register that the wrongness was directly associated with Knives, and Knives herself was nowhere to be seen—not by human eyes, at least. Where was Door’s audino? What was going on?

And then, Geist stopped at the edge of a clearing. Door plowed into his back, but with a twist of his waist, he reached up to catch her. Steadying her, he nodded towards the center of the clearing, and Door raised her head to follow his gaze.

In the center of the space was Knives, standing with her back towards Door. Her fuzzy, white tail was twitching in curiosity, and the rabbit stood on her toes, stretching up to reach an object above her.

That object was a glowing, pink bubble.

“Dream bubble,” Geist breathed.

Door swallowed. She didn’t need any further explanation. Everyone knew that Lostlorn Forest was practically the gateway to the Entralink; it was the last point before the outer ring separating the park from the rest of the region. And as such, it didn’t strike Door as surprising that Lostlorn Forest was devoid of either people or fauxkémon. No one came that far out. It was too dangerous, a place reserved only for ready trainers.

And she was staring at the reason why: an escaped fragment of the unstable Entralink. One that Knives was, at that very moment, reaching for with one paw.

“Knives!” Door screamed. “Get away from that thing!”

The rabbit turned, fixing wide eyes on her trainer, but as she did so, her claws scraped the bottom of the bubble. Behind her, the bubble rippled at her touch, pulsed, and floated higher. It expanded with a hum as a pink light ebbed from within it. Geist pushed away from Door and dashed forward, faster than she had ever seen him run. He hurtled across the ashy clearing and snatched Knives from the ground, then rushed back towards Door. With his free arm, he grabbed her too, and with both the human and the pokémon in his grasp, he ran for the trees.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t as quick as he needed to be, and just before he dove back into the forest, the bubble exploded.

To Door, the entire world shifted into a perfect ocean of rose-colored light. A booming hum, low and vibrating like an alphorn, filled the forest and made her ears ring. The sound permeated her body, shaking her bones until she could feel nothing at all. Before she knew it, she found herself swaying on her feet, with Geist standing in front of her. One of his arms was still holding Knives, and although Door could see the rabbit silently screaming and clawing at her ears, she couldn’t register it or its significance. Geist’s other hand was on Door’s shoulder, and his face filled the rest of her field of vision. His mouth was moving, but for the life of her, she couldn’t make out his words. Not until the light faded, anyway. After that, she realized Geist was shouting at her.

“Door? Door! Pull yourself together!”

She shook her head and blinked. The ringing in her ears finally subsided, and the world came back into focus.

“What … what happened?” she murmured.

The answer to her question came in the form of a choir of pops. Geist slowly turned around, and Door looked beyond him, in time to see a soft, pink fog of light shifting behind them. Bits of the fog pulled off with each of those pops, only to fall to the ground and form small lumps of pink. The lumps shook and scurried, climbing up trees or fanning out along the ground until they filled the clearing to the brim.

And then, all at once, they shook off the pink light that obscured them, and Door and Geist found themselves face-to-face with a swarm of venipede. A swarm of angry, chittering venipede.

Geist drew his arm in front of Door and reached into his pocket for his pansear’s poké ball. “Okay,” he said. “Stay calm and move slowly. If we take things easy, then perhaps—”

The venipede stretched their mouths open and emitted a deafening screech, shortly before rushing for the human and her Companion.

“Plan B!” Door said, whirling around. “Run away!”

She sprinted. It wasn’t her finest moment, but with a swarm of venipede chasing her, she figured no one would blame her if they knew. Behind her, she could hear the pop of a poké ball opening, followed by a monkey’s screech and the roar of fire. Insectoid squeals followed, peppered with bangs and pops, and out of the corner of her eye, Door could see orange light and pink smoke dancing off the trees.

Before she knew it, Geist was at her side, running just fast enough to keep up with her.

“Door, what are you doing?!” he demanded. “Send out your pokémon and fight!”

She stumbled and skidded to a stop, then whirled around to face the swarm. Antares was hanging upside-down from a branch a few feet away, and flames shot from his mouth into the venipede. Beneath him, Knives stood, ears twitching in anticipation.

“Are you kidding me?!” Door barked.

“Are you?!” Geist snapped. “You came here to train, did you not?!”

That statement hit her like a hammer. That was right. She _had_. And if Knives was ready to face off against countless venipede, then…

“Knives, Dig!” Door yelled. 

As Knives obediently dove into the earth, Door plunged her hands into her pockets and drew out the first two poké balls she grasped. Tossing them into the air, she didn’t think twice about what they might have contained, but she prayed silently that one of them was Storm. She knew that her tranquill would make quick work of the venipede, just as she had made quick work of the Castelia Gym.

But, just as it had been with everything else those past few days, Door’s luck had other things to say on the matter. And as such, what appeared before her was not a bird but rather a squat, doll-like creature and a spirit clinging to a golden mask.

Door cursed. Loudly.

“It’s okay! You can still use them!” Geist shouted. “But first—Antares, Incinerate!”

A few venipede had, in the time that Door’s darumaka and yamask took to the field, approached Knives’s burrow. Antares stopped them from going any further by spewing fire onto them, then fanning out his attack to the swarm just a few steps away. And as she watched, Door clenched her jaw, took a deep breath, and nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Fine! You can do it, guys! Boomer, Incinerate! Red, use Night Shade!”

Without a word of acknowledgment, the darumaka, Boomer, instantly rolled past Knives’s burrow, into the swarm of venipede, and there, he twisted upward and sprang to his feet, startling several venipede into stopping. He turned, pirouetting on his claws as he exhaled a stream of brilliant flames. The fire engulfed the venipede closest to him, then branched out and swallowed one bug after another.

Above him, his yamask partner, Red, took a moment to nod back to Door before gliding through the air gracefully towards his opponents. A pink glow enveloped his body, and as he swooped up and out of reach of the insects, a rosy light burst from his form in pulsing, angry rings. Each ring slammed into a different venipede, drumming them into the ground before the fires of Antares and Boomer consumed them.

And then, Door felt Geist nudge her in the side.

“Be ready with a poké ball. Knives should complete her attack shortly,” he said. Then, turning back to the fight, he added, “Antares! Try your new technique! Flame Burst!”

Door blinked at her Companion, then fumbled in her pockets for an empty ball. She watched Antares swing backwards and cup his hands around his face. A brilliant, orange glow swirled between his palms, forming a ball that quickly grew to the size of his head.

And then, Door noticed that her pokémon were in the way.

“Red! Get some altitude and fire off another Night Shade!” she ordered. “Boomer, just get back!”

As new as they were, her pokémon understood and, luckily, were obedient. Without even a glance to his trainer, Boomer dove backwards, beyond Knives’s burrow, to a safe spot on Door’s side of Antares. Red gave her a short, uncertain glance, then glided up gracefully, trailing pink light as he moved. Just as Red fired off another round of vibrating, pink rings, Antares released his ball of flames, straight down into the crowd of venipede. The ball of flames sailed cleanly through the pink rings of energy and exploded into the ground, sending fire, white ash, and spiritual gusts into the undulating mass of bugs. Venipede screeched as the fire rolled over them from the center of the crater, as more and more of their brethren found themselves caught up in the raging inferno. Door flinched and turned away, and as she moved, she felt Geist wrap an arm around her and hold her steady. Opening her eyes, she saw him glare down at her, bucking his head towards the chaos.

The fire wiped out many of the venipede, but there were still many more, waiting in a wave for the snowy ash to fall and smother the flames. It took a few more moments for the blanket of soot to settle back down onto the field, and after that, the inferno died down to embers. Just as the flames subsided, the first of the venipede started forward, rushing quickly for Door and Geist.

It didn’t make it halfway across the field before Knives suddenly erupted from beneath its feet, and as soon as she did, Geist elbowed Door hard. But Door already knew what she had to do, and the second the venipede began to drop, she threw her poké ball as hard as she could. It struck the bug’s carapace with a crack, then swallowed the insect and dropped onto the ash. As it rolled across the field, the button on its face blinked—first with bright flashes, then dim, lazy ones, until it faded completely the second it came to a rest at Door’s feet. A moment later, just like the liepard’s poké ball, the venipede’s vanished into the storage system.

Door let out a triumphant whoop, but she was cut off quickly by another elbow to the ribs. Glaring up at Geist, she saw him shoot her a look before glancing at Knives. The audino kept her eyes fixed on the venipede, which hesitated in reaction to the capture of one of their own before charging forward again.

“Knives, get back!” he called. “Door, Knives is no good here! She can only use physical attacks; you need distance!”

“I know!” Door snapped back.

“Good,” he said. “Then follow my lead! Antares, use Yawn on as many venipede as you can!”

Knives scampered to Door’s side with a series of squeaks. As soon as she was out of the way, Antares cupped his mitten-like hands around his mouth and blew pink bubbles from his lips. The storm of bubbles flowed towards the reforming cluster of insects and popped one by one in the faces of the closest venipede. These venipede stopped in their tracks, causing the ones behind them to slam into one another. The ones that managed to stop themselves from crashing skittered onto the pile of venipede and emitted loud, piercing screams that made the air vibrate. Almost all of Door and Geist’s pokémon slapped their paws over their ears and cried out, only to have their voices quickly drowned by the venipede’s Screech. Only Red hung in the air, seemingly unharmed by the assault. More venipede swarmed around the pileup and lifted their back stingers, arcing them over their bodies as each took on a bright, violet glow. Then, a volley of purple needles shot from the sea of stingers, straight for the pokémon on the other side.

And then, Red swooped down, arms spread and hands unfurled, and a green barrier of light flashed to life before him. The rain of pins struck the barrier with a rush of pings and bangs, but the shield held firm, right up to the last strike. Red shifted, pulling one of his arms back to let the barrier drop.

As soon as it fell, his eyes took on a violently red glow, and he thrust himself forward, to the frontlines of the venipede. There, beneath him, the first several venipede struck by Antares’s Yawn trembled, their eyes fighting to stay open as the ghost approached them. Fixing his gaze on them, Red brought his arms in front of himself and swung his body back, and a black wave of energy pulled itself from his face and into his palms. He spread his hands, fingers splayed as the dark orb grew. When he could spread his arms no further, the ball between his palms shifted, and a crack laced across its equator. Both halves of pure, black energy parted, revealing a demonic, red eye in the center of the orb.

Finally, Red released. The ball, eye and all, rushed down at the horde, trailing black energy as it went. It slammed into the first few venipede, and these venipede instantly exploded into puffs of pink smoke. The rest of the attack washed over the surrounding venipede, blowing the stronger ones backwards and blasting the weaker ones back into the Dream World.

As soon as the remnants of Red’s Hex fizzled into nothingness, the remaining untouched venipede stopped in their tracks and twitched their antennae in the air. Each pair of insectoid eyes fixed onto Antares and Red—but mostly the latter—as they clicked at each other in confusion. Then, without warning or explanation, they turned and scrambled away from the battlefield, into the black and white of the dead forest.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. And then, a slow clapping—but not from Geist or the pokémon. Door and Geist turned quickly to see Hilda, N, and Elesa standing behind them. Hilda kept on clapping as she strode forward.

“Now _that_ was a battle,” she said. “Nice job, all of you. Especially you, Mr. Yamask and Mr. Pansear.”

Antares swung himself off the branch and landed neatly on Geist’s shoulder. With a hoot, the pansear perched and let his master pet him on the head. At the same time, Door could feel Red’s presence next to her, and she turned her head slightly to see him gazing at her with curiosity. She gave him an awkward smile and held up a hand, and in response, he pressed his own into her palm, sending a chill down her arm and into the rest of her body.

Shuddering, Door said, “Y-yeah, well, it was nothing. Kinda surprised it ended like that, though.”

As if to answer her question, the yamask hummed and blinked at her. N stiffened and started forward, his eyes fixed on the spirit. When he got close enough, he reached a hand towards the pokémon, but when his hand got within inches of Red’s mask, Red whirled towards him, smacked his hand away, and gave him a dangerous glare. Yet N didn’t seem bothered by this; rather, he smiled at Door for the first time ever, an act that sent another shiver down her spine.

“I can hear your pokémon’s voice clearly,” he said. “He grew curious of you when he first saw you in Relic Castle, but now, part of him feels as if he needs to do everything he can to see you succeed.” He glanced at Door. “He trusts you already. That’s impressive.”

Door shifted her gaze from Red to N and back to Red. The yamask responded to her confused expression with a hum while scrunching up his eyes in what Door thought might have been a smile. She shifted on her feet awkwardly.

“Uh, right,” she said. “Anyway, what’re you doing here?”

Hilda put her hands on her hips. “Bringing Zekrom up to speed. According to N, Zappy’s concerned but not entirely worried. Can’t be too surprised by that, though. That dragon’s been with me for fifty years now, and it’s had enough poképuffs to know what’s what when it comes to the two of us. It wouldn’t just leave me, and Team Matrix’s got another thing coming to them if they think they’ll overpower me and catch good ol’ Zappy!”

“Wait,” Door said, her eyebrows furrowing. “You mean to tell me you brought Zekrom out, _and I missed it?!_ ”

Geist frowned. “And you call the dragon of ideals _Zappy?_ ”

Hilda waved a hand in the air. “Don’t worry, kid! Zappy and I agree that you’re not quite ready to talk to it yet. That’s what we were talking about: whether or not the two of you should meet. Sad to say, nope, in Zekrom’s infinite wisdom, it’s decided not to do it unless the time’s exactly right. But who am I to talk about whether or not you’re worthy enough to meet a legendary pokémon?”

At that, Hilda swung her eyes towards Elesa, who sauntered towards Door. When she was within feet of the young trainer, she turned her gaze towards her and crossed her arms.

“Well, young lady,” she said, “I’ve seen the way you battle, and I think it’s _electrifying_.”

Behind her, Hilda’s expression shifted into an apologetic smile. Elesa, however, didn’t seem to notice. She only tilted her head a little and gave Door the most dazzling grin the girl had ever seen.

“You still have quite some ways to go in terms of strength,” Elesa continued, “but I’m still interested in seeing what you can do. I accept your challenge. Not tomorrow, though. I want you to relax and prepare. Let’s make it the day after. 10 am. You know where the official gym is, right?”

Geist nodded. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I know the way.”

“Good,” she replied. “Can’t wait to see you there, Miss Hornbeam. I expect only your best.” Turning slightly, she lifted her chin to eye Hilda and N. “Hilda. N. Pleasure seeing you again. Let me know how this adventure of yours develops. I don’t look forward to fighting yet another criminal organization, but if that’s what it comes down to, I’ll be ready when you need me.”

With that, Elesa turned away completely and walked down the path, the tails of her faux fur coat trailing behind her. Even through the coat, Door could see just a hint of the woman’s figure and grace, and she couldn’t help but feel her heartbeat race in response to both, right up until Elesa disappeared through the trees.

Beside her, Hilda chuckled. “Elesa gets that response from everyone,” she said.

Door shook her head vigorously, then blushed upon realizing what Hilda meant. “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about! This is just normal, garden-variety respect, you know?!”

Hilda hid her mouth behind the back of her hand and guffawed. “Anyway, N, I’m glad that out of all the gym leaders from way back when, she and Cheren are the ones who haven’t died or retired. I can’t imagine what someone like Clay would’ve done to you if he knew all this was happening again. Or that you were back in town, for that matter.”

“Indeed,” N said dryly. “Speaking of which, we should get going ourselves. We have other gym leaders to talk to if things keep going the way they are now.”

With a frown of her own, Hilda slid her hands back onto her hips and sighed. “Mood killer, but … can’t argue with you there.”

“Right,” he said. “Door. Continue treating your pokémon well. If they trust you this much, then that says quite a bit about you as a trainer, and you’ll be relying on them later.”

“Um, okay,” Door muttered.

N gave her one last, steady glance, then turned and started down the path in the same direction that Elesa had taken. Hilda lingered behind, giving Door another apologetic look.

“Don’t worry about him,” she said. “It’s nothing personal. He’s just a little on edge because all of this Team Matrix stuff is digging up bad memories for him. You understand, right?”

Door shook her head. “Not really.”

“Well, don’t worry about that, either,” Hilda said with a grin. “Hey, you’ve grown up a little since I last saw you, you know? I don’t know if it’s because your audino and your yamask are real or if you’re just getting used to being surrounded by machines, but the way you worked together with your Companion was something else. Nice touch, by the way, getting him set up so he can battle with you. Haven’t thought much about getting one myself, but if Companions work like that, maybe I should look into it. N’s gotta do his own thing after this is all over anyway, and I’m starting to get used to company.”

The trainer blinked at her. “Um.”

As if unaware of her discomfort, Hilda placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Point is, keep up the good work. And you…!” She turned her eyes towards Geist. “Keep an eye on her.”

Geist smirked. “Always, Miss King.”

“Hilda,” she groaned as she turned away. “Miss King’s way too formal for me. Anyway, gotta run! Door, Geist, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you both around.”

She strode away, quickly catching up with N. Her partner gave her a quick look, and together, the two marched onward and vanished between the trees.

Then, at last, the forest was quiet again. Door thought about what Hilda had said, turning each word over in her mind until she settled on a few in particular. Beside her, Geist coughed into his fist and waited, right up until he finally got the response he had been anticipating.

“Red is real?!” Door yelled.

The yamask bobbed beside her with an inquisitive glance, and Geist flashed her a soft smile.

“Of course he is,” Geist replied. “It would be rather tacky of Halcyon Labs to create a yamask fauxkémon, you know, what with its rumored connection to the dead.”

“And you knew?!” Door snapped.

“Yes.” He folded his hands behind his back and started down the path. “Now come along, Door. Our hour is almost up, and I doubt you’d like to have a search party sent out for you.”

Door growled and jogged to catch up with Geist. “Fine, but tonight, you and I are gonna have a long, _long_ conversation about your tendency to be all coy or whatever.”

Geist grinned at her. “Coy? Is that what Dr. Fennel called me?”

As they continued down the path—Door bickering with Geist and all three of Door’s pokémon following closely behind—none of the group noticed another dream bubble floating lazily through the trees behind them. Slowly, it drifted, curling around trunks and under branches, until it came to a hovering stop where the first bubble had popped. There, it popped, and a rainbow of colored lights danced across the clearing.

Little by little, the colors faded, and beneath them, a tuft of bright, green grass burst through the ash.

—

_> ERATO.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, mass production notes, day 67. Well, on the negative side, my relationship with Devon Corporation has been terminated. On the positive side, Steven has convinced his father to settle with Halcyon Labs, rather than outright sue us before we really got off the ground. Also on the positive side, despite everything—particularly Jasper Stone’s admittedly justifiable outrage—Steven has given me his blessing to use the components I’d commissioned from his team on further experiments for the Companions series. Brigette is convinced this isn’t a good sign, and Zero-One warns me to be careful, but that’s what the legal team is for, right?_

_In any case, I can’t worry about that now. Now that I don’t have to keep consulting Devon, I’m free to develop Companions as I see fit. For one, I’ve decided to go back and revisit my Calliope designs in order to see if they can be improved upon. Calliope is sturdy, but I feel that if her skeletal system matched the density of a human’s as close as possible, that could increase maneuverability and dexterity, thus leading to a far more efficient Companion on the field. That and a lighter chassis could be less of a strain on the battery packs, which means, basically, that a lightweight Companion will be far better suited to long periods between pokémon centers._

_Initial testing has not been positive, actually. While a Calliope core setup works in a lighter chassis, the heat output of such a configuration, well, melts the chassis. And the cores themselves. And while I’ve designed a better fan system that might be a bit more efficient at bringing down the cores’ output, the lighter units actually aren’t as energy-efficient as I had hoped they would be, and regardless, the chassis itself just isn’t durable enough for long-distance traveling, especially through the wilderness. In other words, I’m afraid that unless I can come up with a better material composition for the chassis, any unit that uses a lightweight skeleton will be strictly for domestic purposes._

_But I’m not one to let a good subject go to waste. The result of these tests actually works fine when not put under a major amount of stress, and her core configuration makes her rather pleasant. With the right adjustments, she may be perfect for Halcyon’s marketing team, if not simply for households who prefer a more conversational Companion._

_I’ve named her Erato, after the muse of love poetry._

_[pause]_

_Don’t read too much into it._

_[end recording]_


	27. Extra #5: Lostlorn Clearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elesa is in awe.

Elesa could remember the first time she encountered Zekrom. She was there, with the other gym leaders of Unova, fighting back against the waves of Team Plasma when the first sign came down. Its roar sounded like thunder, deep and low and rumbling, and it shook the foundations of N’s castle and electrified her bones. She saw its lightning, brilliant and blue and white, burning against the black sky. And she saw Hilda, wreathed in light like an angel, like the wrath of God embodied, riding the dragon’s back as they charged the King of Team Plasma and the Dragon of Truth.

And now, here she was again, calmer and older, yes, but still in awe of the Dragon of Ideals.

She couldn’t entirely hear what Hilda was saying to it. Hilda kept her voice low as she pressed her forehead against Zekrom’s. The dragon’s massive, blue eyes fluttered shut, and it growled—low and rumbling, a sound laced with electricity. Elesa could feel her hair stand on end, could taste metal in the air, as Zekrom parted its lips and hissed. It pulled away from Hilda, placed its claws on either side of her, and snapped its jaws, clicking once, twice, and three times before N’s rough voice cut through the air.

“He agrees,” he said, more to Elesa than Hilda. “Whatever it takes to protect the region. He’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Hilda asked. She pressed a hand against Zekrom’s chest. “No doubt it’s gonna be a lot worse than our last fight against goons like these. They’re looking for Justice too, and who knows what they want with the both of you? But they sound desperate, Zappy.”

Zekrom huffed and sent an electrical charge down its body. Hilda didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, she patted its snout with her other hand and leaned into its shoulder.

“Atta boy,” she said. Then, to Elesa, she added, “How about you, ‘lesa?”

Elesa crossed her arms and smirked. “I admit the story you, that girl, and Rosa have all told me sounds a little out-of-the-ordinary, but if you’ve got Zekrom _and_ the Striaton trio onboard, how could I say no?”

Hilda whirled around and planted her hands on her hips. “And you thought this would be hard.”

N cleared his throat. “I see I’ve underestimated the both of you.”

Normally, Elesa would have laughed at that. She had missed Hilda, and though N had ties to Team Plasma, she couldn’t blame him for the past. After all, in a way, if it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have seen Zekrom with her own eyes, and she wouldn’t have felt that surge of electricity and that moment of connection to her fellow gym leaders. Would she have been as close to Skyla or Clay or the others if she hadn’t fought alongside them? That was a question she often found herself asking—and one she realized she couldn’t answer.

But then, right then, right as Hilda and N expressed how pleased they were with her eagerness to join the fight against whatever this Team Matrix was, she felt her smile falter.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose there was _one_ thing that made the decision a little easier for me. Do you know about the dream bubbles?”

Hilda and N fell quiet. Behind them, Zekrom nudged at Hilda’s shoulder, prompting her to face it. Now it looked at Elesa, its eyes burning blue as it studied her. Elesa stiffened under its ancient gaze.

“I think Zappy knows,” Elesa said. “Hilda, mind if it leads the way?”

Hilda had no time to respond. As soon as the words left Elesa’s mouth, Zekrom pushed off the ground and rushed through the trees, and after a beat of recovery on everyone’s part, N, Hilda, and Elesa followed suit.

Elesa wasn’t sure how Zekrom could fit, but somehow, the dragon flowed through the forest like oil. Its body twisted and curved, narrowly missing one dead trunk after another with grace she didn’t know something that large or bulky could have. Its tail glowed brightly, like a brilliant, blue beacon, so no matter how far behind N, Hilda, and Elesa trailed, they could see it, glowing like a forest fire between the trees.

It was so beautiful that Elesa nearly forgot herself: how long she had been running, whether or not she could keep up, how fast she was going. She felt like she was eighteen again, running through the corridors of N’s castle with her zebstrika—her _real_ zebstrika—by her side.

How long ago was that now?

Before she could think about it, they stopped. Zekrom rested in the earth, head bowed, body pressed against the ashes. Its eyes were fixed on an object in the middle of a clearing, and as Hilda, N, and Elesa approached, they saw exactly what it was: low, drifting, and illuminated with a bubblegum-pink light.

Elesa could hear Hilda’s breath catch in her throat, and she could feel N hover a little closer to her. Even she pulled her coat around her shoulders as she watched it.

“The League is aware of certain … phenomena that have been popping up around the Entralink. Forgive the pun,” she said. “ _That_ is a dream bubble. Amanita Fennel has been studying them since we first took notice of them three years ago, but even with her expertise, the League still hasn’t been able to figure out where they’re coming from. That’s where the trainers come in. You see, if a person gets close to one—oh!”

As if on cue, an audino waddled into the clearing. It wandered forward, leaning towards the dream bubble as its ears twitched. It cooed as it crept closer and closer.

“Right on schedule,” Elesa murmured. “Just watch.”

N narrowed his eyes and leaned towards Hilda. “No. I think you should recall Zekrom. Right now. That audino—”

Abruptly, a figure burst onto the scene and sprinted across the clearing. Just as the audino reached up to touch the dream bubble, the man scooped it into his arms and jolted away. Behind him, the dream bubble exploded, and a wave of venipede burst into life and rushed after them.

Hilda recalled Zekrom at that point.

N, meanwhile, leapt to his feet so quickly Elesa could have sworn he had teleported there. His eyes were wide and startled, and it took a moment for him to find his voice.

“They’re confused! I-I can’t understand them beyond that! There are too many of them!” he cried.

Hilda was at his side in an instant. “That audino, though … you recognized it, didn’t you? It’s the kid’s, right?!” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh jeez—we’ve got to help her!”

“Now hold on a moment, Hilda,” Elesa replied calmly.

Hilda whipped herself around to face her. Elesa smiled and rose to her feet, then nodded in the direction of the venipede. She could hear two voices in the distance, just barely audible over the sound of screeching and pokémon cries. But even though their words were half-drowned by the sounds of the venipede, she knew it had to be the girl and her Companion. Door, was it? The one who reminded Elesa of Hilda when she was young?

“I know a person’s first instinct is to help out someone in danger,” she said, “but as a gym leader, it’s my duty to see what a potential challenger is made of. And besides…”

Her eyes flicked to the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. There, just barely visible, were more shadows, wreathed in green lights.

If she had to give Team Matrix one thing, it was the fact that their grunts dressed better than Team Plasma.

“Wouldn’t want to call attention to ourselves when we’re outnumbered too,” she finished.


	28. Nimbasa Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door and Knives do something clever.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a young woman announced, “welcome to Nimbasa Gym!”

The lights burst on, and the crowd instantly erupted into a roar. Door blinked several times, not out of surprise but instead out of blindness; it took several seconds for her vision to resolve and for the battlefield in front of her to come into view.

And what she saw in front of her was unlike anything else she had ever seen. A catwalk stretched before her, and its glassy surface reflected the brilliant lights set along its sides. At its edges, Companions sauntered forward, flaunting yellow dresses and cream-colored fur coats before turning abruptly to face one another like a wall of models. Behind them, rising up from either side of the catwalk, were rows upon rows of theater-style seats. Every single row was filled to capacity with screaming fans, each either clapping or pumping their arms in excitement.

Swallowing hard, Door turned her eyes back to the catwalk, staring straight ahead at the stage far in front of her. There, waiting in the center of the wide-open space, was Elesa, and next to her stood a Companion in a League referee’s uniform. Above the gym leader, a vast screen took up the entire back wall, projecting Elesa’s calm and confident smile for the audience to see. Out of the corner of her eye, Door saw one of the closest Companions turn its head to her, and in the next instant, the image of Elesa’s face was replaced by Door’s own.

She didn’t need the giant screen to know that her face was paling.

“Oh,” Door breathed.

“Welcome to Nimbasa Gym indeed,” Geist chuckled. He stepped up beside her, with Red floating just over his shoulder. “Surprised? Nimbasa Gym is considered to be the second real challenge in the Unova Circuit, and Elesa is a veteran trainer. It’s not unusual for gyms to be publicized before the match happens, especially if the gym leader is as popular as Elesa is. That may be why she asked you to wait a couple of days before she battled you.”

Door swallowed again. “Isn’t it a bit much, though?”

“Not really. Rosa Alvarado had the same treatment, I’ve been told.”

He punctuated this with a wink, to which Door responded by straightening her back. Then, with a deep breath, she stepped forward, passing the first row of Companions. The lights behind them changed to a brilliant green, and the same female voice that had started the show boomed through the loudspeakers.

“We have an exciting match for you today, folks!” she said. “Yes, just in case you weren’t satisfied by yesterday’s match, another challenger has emerged to take on our very own Elesa Priestly!”

Door clenched her jaw and pushed forward, past the next set of Companions and then the set after that and the set after that. With each set she passed, the lights behind them shifted. Gold. Blue. Pink. White. All the while, she focused on the stage straight ahead. Her eyes steadied on Elesa, not on the screen above her, and she pushed the thought of the crowds out of her mind. She didn’t want to think about them right then, about how many eyes were on her at that moment.

At the same time, the announcer continued.

“Hailing from Nuvema City, this up-and-coming trainer possesses the knowledge to rise above the Striaton Gym, the wisdom to outsmart the Nacrene Gym, and the creativity to conquer the Castelia Gym. But does she have the power to defeat the Nimbasa Gym, or will our shining beauty defend her title for the second time this week? Just wait and see, folks!”

At that, Door arrived at the stage and rested her clenched fists at her side. Geist stood next to her on one side, and Red floated at her other. Together, the looked up at Elesa, who regarded them by tilting her chin up and casting a smirk onto the trio. Next to her, the referee Companion smiled, then opened her mouth and continued.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Companion boomed, “put your hands together for today’s challenger, Door Hornbeam!”

The crowd erupted into another deafening burst of cheers. Door gritted her teeth and tried her best to push the spectators back out of her mind. How many of them recognized her last name, she wondered? Her mother kept her out of the limelight all throughout her childhood, but everyone knew her grandmother. That thought only heightened the twinge of nervousness she was already feeling, and she couldn’t help but think about the crowd again. She shuddered and took a deep breath, trying to look calm and collected for the gym leader.

Elesa smiled broadly, and Door knew by the look in her eyes that she could see right through her act.

“Welcome, Door,” she said. “Glad you could make it. I’ve been looking forward to our battle, ever since Hilda told me about your skill.”

Door forced herself to smile. Reaching behind her head with one hand, she extended her other and chuckled.

“Well,” she said. “Hopefully I’m not gonna disappoint.”

Elesa grasped Door’s hand and shook it, and Door felt the snap and tingle of electricity. Somehow, Elesa’s hand was colder than Door had expected.

“I doubt you will,” Elesa replied.

“Right.” The gym Companion stepped forward and shook the official referee flags at her sides. “Miss Hornbeam, welcome to Nimbasa Gym. Our standard rules are simple. This is a single battle, switch style, no time limit. The challenger may use as many pokémon as she wishes, but the gym leader will only use three. Fauxkémon and items are permitted for both sides. Only the challenger may seek guidance from their Companion, but their designated Companion may not interfere with the battle otherwise, including to transport pokémon from the storage network to the arena. Fight cleanly, within the boundaries of the battlefield. If these rules are acceptable to you, please confirm and take your place in the challenger’s box.”

Door glanced at the Companion, then back at Elesa. “W-what? Oh! Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, then best of luck, Door,” Elesa said.

With that, Elesa turned and walked to one end of the field. Door took another deep breath, then made her way to the other. As she walked, Geist and Red trailed after her.

“So, what’s your strategy?” Geist asked.

“Knives all the way if I can,” Door said.

Geist gave her a strange look. “Not Red?”

Door shook her head, keeping her eyes on the challenger’s box and not the crowd behind it. “Nah. Just make sure Red’s out of the way. I just want him to watch.”

“Watch?”

She forced herself to smile. “Yeah. I remember what N said about him. Let’s see how interested he is in me after the match.”

Geist blinked at her. “Whatever you wish, Door.” Then, shaking his head, he added, “I should warn you about something, though.”

Door took up position in the trainer’s box at the end of the field. Pulling out Knives’s poké ball, she glanced at her Companion, who stopped at her side. “What?”

“Elesa is known for using emolga,” Geist told her. “They’re flying-types.”

At that, Door forced herself to grin. “Thanks for the tip, Geist, but everyone knows that. Luckily, I’ve thought this through, and seeing as I can’t use sandile to take down her _other_ signature pokémon, we’ll have to settle for Plan B: Knives all the way.”

“Plan B? You must be serious about this.” He patted her shoulder. “Well, then, best of luck. Call for me if you need me.”

Geist swept his hand away from Door, motioning for Red to follow. Together, the Companion and the pokémon moved behind Door, off the edge of the stage, and to a bench set up just below it. Door gave them both a thumbs up with her free hand before turning to the battle.

“If you’re ready, Miss Hornbeam, the gym leader traditionally offers the challenger first pick,” the referee stated.

She took a deep breath. “Right. I’m ready. Knives! Let’s—”

“Just a moment.”

Door stopped, mid-wind-up, to blink at Elesa. The gym leader smiled and motioned to the referee Companion. As soon as the referee was by her side, Elesa lifted her hand at her side, and a holographic panel appeared next to her.

“Nervous, Door?” she asked.

“Um.” Door’s eyes flicked from side to side. Wasn’t she supposed to be starting this battle?

Elesa cocked her head and tapped a few keys on the panel. In the center of the battlefield, a neat crack split the gym floor in two, and the floor slid apart, revealing a smooth, red expanse of earth underneath. As this new floor rose to take its place, domed holographic projectors emerged along its sides and shot outwards until they hovered several feet from the edges of the battlefield.

“What place makes you the most comfortable?” Elesa asked. “Woods? City? Describe it to me.”

“I…” Door furrowed her eyebrows.

“Door,” Geist whispered harshly to her, “she’s giving you the option to customize the field. It may help with the crowds and give you an advantage.”

“Crowds?!” Door squeaked. “I’m not afraid of a bunch of people staring at me! Where did you get that idea?!”

Looking back at him, Door saw a deadpan expression on Geist’s face. Then, with a smirk, he said, “Well, all right. Then pretend you’re not nervous and choose a field you’d like to fight on.”

“A-a field? I don’t know,” Door said. “I-I guess … the beach?”

“Good choice!” Elesa exclaimed.

She tapped a few more keys, and the projectors flared to life. A blue light rushed out from each of them, bounced off invisible walls a few feet from each side of the battlefield, and traced upwards to form a massive box of glowing, white walls around them. Pixels trailed along the walls, quickly forming the images of white sand dunes winding across the battlefield and for miles before and behind Door. A warm, salty wind bent fields of tall, wispy beach grasses to Door’s left, and to her right, rolling, bottle-green waves crashed against the shore. Almost directly overhead, a hot sun hung in a cloudless, blue sky.

And then, all at once, Door felt … relaxed. She couldn’t hear the crowds anymore. She couldn’t feel their gazes or see the giant television screen with her face on it. All she felt was warm, salty air, the sort that almost reminded her of something.

Hoenn. _Home._

“Better?”

Door almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of another person’s voice right over her shoulder. She looked back to see Geist smiling down at her.

“The crowd can still see you,” he told her, “but don’t worry. The hologram will hold no matter how intense the battle gets. You won’t be able to see them, and more importantly, they won’t be able to hear me.”

“What?” Door asked.

He nodded towards the field. “Better get started.” Straightening, he stood next to Door. “My user accepts this change.”

“Wonderful!” Elesa exclaimed. “Then please send out your first pokémon!”

Door inhaled through her nose and closed her eyes. She tasted the salt and felt the sunlit warmth, and as she did, all thoughts of the crowd outside the box eased out of her mind.

“Okay,” she said. Flicking open her eyes, she held her poké ball aloft. “Okay! Knives! Let’s go!”

With a flash of light, Knives materialized in front of her owner. She tilted her head at the sight of the beach stretching before her, and she trotted forward, cooing in curiosity. Elesa smiled as her first opponent approached.

“Not bad,” she said. “But let’s see how it stands up to this! Coco, go!”

Elesa raised her first poké ball in the air, and it cracked open and released a burst of energy. In a brilliant shower of light, a small, black-and-white pokémon sailed forward. It chittered and extended its tiny legs, spreading its flattened skin flaps enough to hang in the air. Door smirked at the flying squirrel. Her mind was already flicking through the calculations, comparing her rabbit’s bulk to the fragile-looking rodent before her.

“This will be quick,” she said. “Knives, flatten it with Secret Power!”

“Coco, Volt Switch!” Elesa ordered at once.

What happened next was a blur to Door—a literal blur, in which Elesa’s emolga became nothing more than a streak of golden light. The streak shot at Knives with a bang, and before Door knew it, her rabbit was flat on her back and squealing in pain. Elesa swept her arm up and held her emolga’s poké ball aloft, just a split second before the streak struck the device. As soon as her emolga retreated, Elesa whirled around and tossed a second poké ball into the air. This one released another burst of light, and soon, Door was looking … at another emolga.

“Don’t let it fool you!” Geist shouted. “That’s a second emolga, not the same one you were just facing!”

Door glared over her shoulder. “You don’t say! Here I thought she Volt Switched to the same pokémon!”

Geist gave her an apologetic grin. “Sorry. Here’s something useful: that’s Elesa’s usual strategy. Electric-types are remarkably fast, and Volt Switch forces Elesa to switch out pokémon every time its user lands a hit. She uses this to her advantage by constantly shuffling her pokémon before her opponent can take out any one of them while dealing damage at the same time.”

“And how is that fair?!” Door snapped.

Geist shrugged. “Because it’s legal.”

Door growled and turned back to the battle. At that moment, Knives, who had watched Door over her shoulder with concern, finally pushed herself to her feet and glanced uneasily back at the emolga. This one wore the same confident grin as its twin as it bobbed in the air. Behind it, Elesa smiled and waited. _Waited_ , Door realized. Elesa was waiting for Door to make her next move. For Door to order Knives directly into another Volt Switch.

“So what do I do?” she muttered.

“Think about it,” Geist replied. “No strategy is iron-clad. If the gym leader won’t let you attack directly, what other options do you have?”

Door closed her eyes and frowned. What options _did_ she have? Sure, Knives had non-offensive moves. She was an audino, after all. But none of them were fast enough to take out Elesa’s emolga. Door had prepared for the speed of Elesa’s electric-types; she had known thanks to years of watching Hilda King’s battles which pokémon this gym leader was likely to use. But how could she have forgotten that Elesa’s team could use Volt Switch? How could she beat that?

“The battle may be untimed,” Elesa called, “but it still has to move, Door. Your next order, please.”

“I know,” she said. “I know! I just need to think!”

And then, to her, it felt like every sensation she was feeling on that fake beach faded a little. She couldn’t explain how—perhaps it was simply because she was so focused on the battle right then—but above everything else, she heard her Companion’s footsteps draw closer to her.

“Door,” he said, “I can give you another hint.”

She balled her hands into tight fists at her sides. “What?”

“A hint,” Geist said. “Listen. Do you know what emolga’s primary ability is?”

Door’s heart sank at the realization. “Static.”

“Very good. What does it do?”

She swallowed. “If an opponent uses a physical attack on an emolga, there’s a chance the emolga will send an electric shock through that pokémon, instantly paralyzing it.”

“And what is it called when a pokémon is paralyzed?”

“I don’t know—status?”

“You studied. Final question. Audino are slower than emolga, and when it comes to directly damaging techniques, Knives only knows Secret Power and Dig. But that’s not _all_ she knows, is it?”

Door’s eyes snapped open, and she glanced back at Geist. He stood behind her with his arms crossed. When his partner looked at him, he tilted his head and smiled.

“That’s right. There’s a reason why I’m telling you this,” he said. “Good luck.”

With a smirk, Door snorted. “Don’t need it. Thanks for the tip.” Then, turning back to the battle, she said, “Knives! Secret Power again!”

“Chanel, Volt Switch!” Elesa responded.

Just like its partner, Elesa’s second emolga shot across the field, surrounded by crackling electricity. Knives had no time to react before she was struck in the chest, but this time, she dropped to a knee onto the sand-covered floor instead of her back. The emolga shot back to its poké ball, and a second later, its twin took the field again.

“Now’s your cue, Knives!” Door shouted. “Prepare your Secret Power!”

Knives extended a paw, and a bright, pink orb swirled within her claws. She swung this orb directly into her chest, allowing the pink light to envelope her. Across the field, Elesa raised her eyebrows and smirked.

“I’m not sure what you’re planning, Door, but I think you’ve already figured out why Secret Power is going to be tough to use on my pokémon,” she said. “Coco, Volt Switch!”

“Knives, lean forward!” Door replied.

The audino swept herself onto her feet but leaned forward. Coco swung itself backwards, then shot forward like an electrified pebble from a slingshot and plowed into Knives’s chest. Knives yelped as her paws slid out from under her, but instead of being driven into the ground onto her back or a knee, she fell forward—directly onto her opponent. Pink light and golden bolts of electricity lit up the gym with a deafening bang. Door flinched, turning her face away from the battle briefly. Then, cautiously, she looked back, just as the light faded.

Knives and Coco stood inches apart, on all fours and with teeth bared on the sandy floor. Both pokémon looked ready to leap at one another again, but the emolga’s posture looked off somehow. It trembled and shook, and its face was flatter than it had been a moment ago. Door exhaled at the sight.

“Almost there,” Door muttered.

“Chanel, Volt Switch!”

Door straightened. “Knives! Get up and—”

Before she could finish, Knives was on her back again with a squeal, and Chanel was replaced by Coco. Realizing Elesa had taken advantage of her moment of distraction, Door balled her hands back into fists and growled.

“Knives! Can you get up?!” she asked.

It took some effort, but Knives stood and winced. Shaking off the shock of being struck, she looked back with a smile and a thumbs up.

“Interesting tactic,” Elesa said. “Forcing Chanel to come to you. Shame you couldn’t knock him out.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows. _Him._ One of the emolga was male. Suddenly, Geist’s advice made sense. There _was_ a reason why he had told her what he did. He knew that if Knives learned Secret Power, then by the logical progression of which techniques audino learned when, that meant she should have known… 

But would that actually work on a fauxkémon? Door swallowed. No. She had to trust Geist. He wouldn’t tell her something that could cost her the match.

“Knives, brace yourself again!” Door snapped.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Elesa replied. “Coco, Volt Switch!”

For a second time, Knives stood, grinding her hind paws into the floor. At the same time, Coco shot at her, cutting across the field like a lightning bolt before plowing into Knives’s chest. The audino dropped to a knee with a strangled cry, and Coco shot back to Elesa, retreating once more into safety. Once more, Chanel took to the field and floated with jerking bobs above the center of the field.

“Move now, Knives!” Door shouted. “Attract!”

Knives struggled to her feet as one of her paws found her lips. She gave her palm a kiss and pulled it away, and as her paw moved, a heart made of pink light swirled onto her palm. At the sight of it, Elesa visibly stiffened.

“Chanel, dodge!” Elesa shouted.

Her emolga shuddered and dipped to the side, but somehow, he managed to soar skyward again. Knives shoved her palm against the heart she had created, and it shot through the air like a pink bullet and engulfed the flying squirrel. All at once, he fell like a pink comet back to the floor, only to pull up at the last second, moments before he would have crashed. For a few seconds, he skimmed along the sand dunes until he landed on the center of the field, and there, he lay, keeping his wide eyes on the audino.

“Chanel, get out of there!” Elesa demanded. “Volt Switch!”

The flying squirrel didn’t move. He remained there, paws grasping at the floor and eyes glued onto Knives. Door grinned and looked over her shoulder.

“Hey, nice tip,” she said.

Geist crossed his arms and inclined his head. “It’s what I’m here for. Right, Red?”

Beside him, the yamask merely bobbed. His eyes were fixed in fascination on the battle, and upon seeing his expression, Door couldn’t help but grin with confidence.

“That’s right,” she said. “You can trust me.”

“Chanel, break free and use Volt Switch!” Elesa ordered.

Door snorted. “I don’t think so. Knives! Secret Power one more time!”

Once more, Elesa’s emolga refused to do anything else but stare at Knives. In as cute a manner as she could muster, Knives twirled on one foot as she extended an arm above her. Pink light whirled up her body and into her palm to form a glowing, rose-colored ball. She stopped, facing Chanel as she held the ball in front of her chest. Leaning down, she kissed it, pressed it into her skin, and let it wash its rosy light over her body. Once it ebbed around her, she bound forward in one graceful leap after another until she came within feet of her opponent. Then, Knives jumped up and threw her entire body onto Chanel. He crunched beneath her, and the pink light burst into a dazzling explosion.

When the light cleared and Knives rolled off her opponent, Chanel lay there, unmoving. But this time, there was no light in his glassy eyes—no admiration in his dented face. The gym Companion ran forward, peered at the squirrel, and raised her arm—the one closest to Door.

“Emolga is unable to battle!” the gym Companion announced. “Match goes to the challenger!”

Elesa smiled and held up a poké ball to recall her emolga. Glancing across the battlefield, she gave Door an approving nod.

“Good thinking, disabling my emolga like that,” she said. Then, after slipping one emolga’s poké ball into the pocket of her pantsuit, she brought out a second. “Unfortunately for you, the other one may just keep you on your toes a little longer. Attract won’t work on _her_ , after all!”

She tossed the next ball into the air, and once again, Door found herself staring at Coco. Balling her hands into fists again, Door leaned forward a little. Sure, according to Elesa, Attract wouldn’t work on this one, but what about the one after it? What about that third pokémon?

“Coco, Volt Switch!” Elesa ordered.

“Oh crap, wait!” Door stammered. “Knives—”

The emolga shot straight at Knives before she could finish, and for a fourth time, the audino took a surge of electricity to the chest. She squealed as the bullet of light shot back at its source, but Door set her teeth. This was it. This was the third pokémon. She knew what it was thanks to the records of Hilda King’s battle and of Rosa Alvarado’s battle and of every other battle Elesa had ever recorded. But that didn’t stop the feeling of dread from settling into Door’s stomach when Elesa’s next pokémon emerged from a burst of white light.

Because before her, in the center of the battlefield, a six-foot-tall zebra towered over her pokémon.

Eying the zebstrika, Door took a deep breath.

“Geist?!” she shouted.

“Male!” he snapped back. “You’ve got this, Door!”

“Really hope you’re right!” Door replied. “Knives, Attract!”

“Nice strategy, but let’s see if you’re fast enough for it.” Elesa swept a hand forward. “Armani! Flame Charge!”

Elesa’s pokémon reared up on its hind legs, kicking with a wild whinny. Then, he slammed his hooves into the sand, and as flames surged up around his body, he charged at a speed that almost took Door and Knives off-guard. Knives hesitated for a second before quickly kissing her paw. As she drew a ball of pink light from her lips, the zebstrika plowed into her, and the two of them became engulfed with flames and rose-colored light. Between them, the mixture of energies exploded, sending Armani skidding backwards and Knives tumbling towards Door. The rabbit rolled onto her stomach just feet from her trainer, and with effort, Knives lifted herself, pushing her body to its knees.

“Knives, are you okay?!” Door cried.

The rabbit chirped and forced herself to her feet. With an unsteady grin, she gave her trainer another thumbs up. Door bit her lip. She knew Knives couldn’t take that much more, even if audino were notorious for their defenses.

“Armani, Volt Switch!” Elesa commanded.

A sharp whinny brought Door’s attention back to her opponent. The zebra bucked and reared back onto his hind legs, and he violently wrenched his head away from Knives. When he slammed his hooves back into the ground, a cloud of sand billowed out around him, but he made no effort to emerge from it. Instead, his glowing eyes burned through the cloud of sand as it settled around him, as he stood tall and firm with his ankles buried in the tiny dunes he had created.

Door stared at those hooves as two realizations dawned on her.

“Knives! Dig!”

Truth be told, a reasonable trainer would have thought that Dig, a move that required a pokémon to tunnel deep into the earth, would be a terrible decision in an indoor arena with a retractable dirt floor that couldn’t have been more than a few feet deep. Door was not a reasonable trainer. She was, instead, a smart one, and she not only knew how Dig worked but also that Elesa would know too. That was why she had a pair of emolga, after all.

But Door didn’t realize _just_ that, of course. She had _also_ realized that sand formed an excellent cushion for concealing something burrowing mere feet below it. Like a sandile in the desert. Or an audino.

And so, as Elesa’s zebstrika bucked and whinnied in protest of his own master’s orders, Knives hopped into the air and plunged her front claws into the sand beneath her, then tunnelled into the dirt hidden beneath the arena.

Elesa was smiling after that.

“Very good, Door,” she said. “Either you got really lucky, or you knew enough to figure out my arena’s little secret. Armani, Flame Charge!” With Knives out of sight, the zebstrika bucked his head and whinnied. He reared up on his hind legs, then slammed his front hooves into the floor. Fire rushed up his legs and consumed his body, and as if fuelled by it, he launched forward, racing around the beach in a gallop. As the zebra picked up speed, the fire flared brighter, forcing Door to reel back with its light and heat. Shielding herself with an arm, she squinted at the pokémon. Elesa’s zebstrika was going far too fast. How was Knives supposed to get a bead on it?

As if to answer her question, the ground exploded not far from the center of the field, and Knives burst high into the air. Armani, unable to correct his course in time, barreled directly into the hole she had made, his left front leg sinking in deep. Knives came down to smash her entire body into the zebra’s shoulder, and with a sharp whinny and a sickening snap, the zebstrika fell over onto his side. He shrieked as three of his four legs kicked frantically, and Door could see why: his fourth leg was stuck in the burrow Knives had made, bent partway up the calf. Knives landed a few feet away, and there, she squatted and waited.

“Clever, disabling my zebstrika like that,” Elesa said. “Armani! Calm down and pull yourself out!”

Door grinned. “Disabled, huh? Okay, Knives. Dig again, but this time, do it fast!”

From her squat, Knives leapt into the air like a rabbit, then plunged back into the sand. Armani squirmed and whinnied, desperate to escape, until at last, his leg popped out of the hole. Knives followed shortly afterwards, plowing her entire body into the zebstrika’s chest and thrusting him upwards and onto his side. His chest and shoulder caved under her paws, and the light in his eyes flickered off.

The gym Companion wasted no time in raising her arm. “Zebstrika is unable to battle! Match goes to the challenger!”

“Don’t get too cocky, Door,” Elesa warned with a smile. She withdrew her zebstrika and held up her last poké ball. “You still have one more obstacle between you and my badge, remember?”

She tossed the poké ball into the air with a flourish, and Coco emerged from the device and soared into the air. Door kept her eyes on it and pressed her lips together for a second.

“Geist?” she called out. “Girl or boy?”

“Sorry, Door,” he said. “This one’s a girl. Be careful!”

Door huffed. “So no Attract. Fine. She can’t use Volt Switch either, so we’re—”

“Aerial Ace!” Elesa ordered.

Door choked on her own words. “Whoa, wait!”

Before Door could send out her own orders, the emolga shot at Knives. It was a near repeat of the onslaught of Volt Switches, but this time, there was no electricity. There was only a black and yellow blur rushing down and slamming hard into Knives’s chest, only to swerve back up into the air. It happened so quickly that Knives’s reaction almost seemed delayed: a screech a second after the strike landed, a slow-motion pitch backwards onto her tail, a slow and sluggish flailing of her limbs as she lay on her back in the sand. Door had to blink a few times before her mind registered that Knives was moving no slower than normal. But the audino was on the ground, and judging by her pained cries, Door knew that she wouldn’t be able to handle many more fast-paced strikes.

Luckily, Door already had an idea cooking: one she knew was going to work … largely because she had already seen it. Whether or not Knives would survive it was entirely another matter, however, and she knew that. Glancing at Elesa’s emolga, she eyed the way the squirrel bobbed. Coco was in no better shape than Knives, which was something, considering she was a fauxkémon. Her chassis looked flattened, and now that she wasn’t rushing at her opponent, Door noticed how she floated erratically in the air. But her expression was just as blank as any other fauxkémon’s, and Door knew from the Aerial Ace that she could hit just as hard as ever. So letting Knives take a hit to deal one was a risk. Period.

But it was either that or forfeit.

“Knives!” she shouted. “Can you get up?!”

With some effort, the audino rose her feet. She cast a shiny-eyed glance back towards her trainer and forced a small smile. Door took a breath. This was a risk. This was a big risk. But she knew that out of her pokémon, Knives had the best chances at taking out Elesa’s last pokémon.

“It’s okay, Knives,” she said. “Secret Power, just like before!”

“Again? That’s rather courageous of you, Door,” Elesa said. “Fine. Coco, let’s repeat too! Aerial Ace!”

As quickly as she could, Knives slammed a ball of pink light into her chest and ground her paws into the floor. Coco shot at her, just as she had a moment ago. For an instant, Door held her breath, and the arena seemed to fall into silence.

And then, with a flash of movement and a bang, Coco struck Knives in the chest, and Knives swept her body down, on top of the emolga. Pink light exploded from the pile, and for that half-second, Door was blinded.

Then, the light dissipated, and there Knives lay, face down on the floor. No one said a word. No one moved. Slowly, the gym Companion started forward, her blank eyes steadying on the two pokémon for any signs of movement. Slowly, Knives pulled herself off the pile and sat down on the sand, and with a chirp, she licked her paws and combed them across her face and ears.

Coco, meanwhile, sprawled out on the gym floor. Her head was smashed in, and her eyes were out and lifeless.

“Emolga is unable to battle!” the gym Companion announced. “Gym Leader Elesa is out of usable pokémon! Battle goes to the challenger!”

All at once, the beach disappeared, replaced by the gym and the crowds and the _noise_.

The gym had erupted into a wave of sound. Door looked up to see the crowds leaping to their feet, hands wildly clapping and waving as each person cheered for her. She shuddered under their excitement but pushed herself to give them a little wave back. Then, with a deep breath, she moved forward, focusing completely on audino, forcing herself to ignore the crowds. When she was close, she swooped down to wrap her arms around her audino, and in her grasp, Knives chirruped and stopped grooming long enough to nuzzle her back.

“Knives, you’re _incredible_ ,” she said.

“I agree,” Elesa responded.

Door looked up to see Elesa standing over her with one hand on her hip. Her other hand hung at her side, and her slender fingers played with a small, metallic object.

“Your power dazzled me,” she said. “It was just the shocking match I was hoping for, Door, and your teamwork with your Companion was simply electrifying! You’re a shining example of a trainer indeed!”

With a nervous grin, Door rose to her feet. “Um … thanks?”

Elesa chuckled into her hand, then extended it, palm up, to reveal a badge. Door stiffened as she eyed the golden lightning bolt Elesa was offering her.

“No, thank you for the excellent battle,” Elesa continued. “It’s my pleasure to award you with the Bolt Badge. Please have your Companion approach and present your badge case.”

Door felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t have to look up to know that Geist was at her side. With a whispered “good job,” he stepped forward and spread his hands before Elesa. His holographic screen swirled to life, and Elesa pressed her badge into the empty spot beside Melissa’s. The Bolt Badge dissolved into a rush of glitter and sparks, leaving behind its gleaming image beside Door’s three other badges.

“With the Bolt Badge, you’re halfway through your Unova challenge,” Elesa said. “Door, you’re a remarkable trainer, so I have full faith in you. Show the other four gym leaders the same sort of skill, power, and trust in your team you’ve shown me, and I have no doubt you’ll make it to the Elite Four.”

“I hope so,” Door said. “Uh, good battling you?”

She extended a hand, prompting Elesa to broaden her smile a little more. Elesa’s hand wrapped around Door’s and gripped it, sending waves of electricity up Door’s arm.

“Good battling you too, Door,” Elesa replied, “and best of luck with your journey. We’ll be keeping an eye out for you, you know. Given the events of the other day.”

Door hesitated. She had nearly forgotten about everything else that had happened that week. And now, having been reminded about Team Matrix, Door felt the euphoria of winning the battle quickly wear off. Clearing her throat, she forced one last smile and nodded.

“R-right. Thanks,” she said.

And with that, she quickly turned away, back towards the challenger’s end of the field.

“Hey, Red!” she called. “Come on! Check out—”

Before she could finish, she felt her words jumble up into a hardened ball at the back of her throat. Red was there, floating above the edge of the field as he had throughout the match, but now, he was turned away, with his back to Door. And the reason for that was because he was talking to a pignite in the front row.

The pignite’s trainer and her Companion, meanwhile, were sitting next to him, beaming up at Door with proud but familiar faces.

“Hey, Door,” Blair said. “Congrats on your win.”

—

_> CLIO.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, mass production notes, day 68. As a follow-up to the previous entry, I thought it would be appropriate to transpose a Urania setup onto a lightweight chassis. This would enable us to produce the cheapest Companion we can, thanks to the lack of a personality core. After all, personality cores tend to be expensive due to the necessary psyche regulatory software, not to mention the extra time taken to configure the core for later adaptation, so no personality core means no expense, right?_

_Anyway, I’m calling the end result of this little endeavor Clio, after the muse of history. Needless to say, she’s, well, a success, technically speaking. The Urania configuration is far more energy-efficient than the Calliope, so I wasn’t at all surprised when it only took a few tweaks to get Clio to work. And between the energy efficiency and the lack of a personality core, that should knock both the initial price and price of maintenance down enough for us to market Clio to students and lower income households._

_But on a personal note, I don’t know. Urania and Clio … they’re not exactly unpleasant, but something about them disturbs me. I think it’s the Uncanny Valley principle. Sure, Calliope and Erato are likewise artificial humans, but somehow, it’s easier to pretend that they’re real. But Urania and Clio? Everything about them is mechanical, from the way they move to the way a user has to constantly tell them what to do. Sure, I know that there haven’t been any complaints from the researchers who ordered Urania; they want a research tool, not a conversationalist. But if we’re selling Clio to the general public, I can’t help but wonder how she’ll be received. I’m still going to send the plans to the production team, of course—especially now that at least Brigette seems to think it’s a good idea—but … the less time I spend around a Clio, the better._

_Unsurprisingly, Zero-One is less disturbed by them than I am, but then again, it’s within his personality to be a bit more accepting of things that aren’t entirely human. It figures that he—_

_[end recording]_


	29. Route 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door learns a thing or few about Geist (and Blair learns a thing or few about everything).

There was no Route 5 by the time Door set off on her journey. Or, rather, there _was_ , but now it was less a route and more an avenue in western Nimbasa, leading right up to the Clay River separating the city from its neighboring Driftveil. What once was forest fifty years ago was now a concrete jungle, and as Door looked up at the towering masses of glass and steel, she couldn’t help but feel a little of her old surprise and disappointment returning. Sure, she had known that Nimbasa had expanded in the fifty years since Rosa had been through there, but she didn’t think _all_ of the forest was gone.

So that was the second thing that had surprised her the afternoon following her gym battle. The first, which had cropped up just as she and Blair arrived at the pokémon center, was the fact that Blair had lost to Elesa, and now Blair didn’t want to battle Door.

Which was fine by Door if she had to be perfectly honest, but that still didn’t explain why, on the morning after Door’s gym battle, just as Door set her sights on Driftveil City, Blair had decided to join her without saying a word.

“So, just so you know, Geist and I are going to Driftveil,” she said.

“I know,” Blair replied. 

Blair was looking at the LCD billboards flanking the trainer’s corridor that had been Route 5. Not that many trainers were on the corridor that morning. Evidently, the entire thing about Elesa going through a drought of challengers was both a truth and a lie. It was a truth because Elesa had indeed faced no trainers for a solid month before Blair. It was a lie because, as it turned out, the release of the newest model of Companions—an event that was apparently a big deal to everyone but the heiress to the company that made them—had just enough power to make scores of trainers wait a month. Even that morning, there was a third challenger going up against Elesa, and between billboards with smiling Companions either advertising themselves or a plethora of other products, Door could see screens broadcasting the battle. She didn’t recognize the new trainer at all, nor was she all that interested in watching a faux herdier go up against Elesa’s zebstrika.

What worried her the most was the way _Blair_ was watching the battle. The girl looked as if she was seeing past the screen, into the distance, even though her eyes were trained on each building-sized display.

“Uh, so,” Door began, “don’t you … you know. Don’t you want to stay behind?”

“No,” Blair answered.

Door sighed and cast a glance towards Opal and Geist. Opal, oddly quiet but ever-smiling, was following behind her fellow Companion, but Geist was completely focused on the map he was projecting in front of his eyes from one hand.

“Don’t look at me,” Geist told Door. He flicked his fingers to zoom in on another bend in the road. “Just ask her.”

“Y-yeah,” she muttered. Then, swallowing, she glanced back at Blair. “Um. Are you all right? I mean, it’s okay if you lost. We all lose now and then.”

“I know,” Blair replied.

In response, Door stopped and sighed. She reached out for Blair’s wrist, forcing the girl to freeze. The Companions followed shortly afterwards, with Opal smiling at the road ahead and Geist giving both humans a mildly curious glance.

“Okay, look,” Door said. “I guess I’m fine with you traveling with us, but there’s a lot you need to know, and before I even get into the reasons why it’d be complicated hanging around _me_ , I need you to really think about whether or not this is what you want to do. You get me?”

Blair stared at her with a nearly unreadable expression for a second. Then, with a deep breath, she lowered her eyes. “Door … I’ve been thinking a lot about that kid with the patrat.”

“What kid with the patrat?”

She looked up. “The patrat we saved in Wellspring Cave, remember? And I’ve been thinking about Wilbur too.”

“Oh.” Door shifted on her feet. “And?”

“And?” Blair frowned. “Door, don’t you think it’s weird? All these real pokémon running around, just out of the blue?”

“Of course I think it’s weird,” Door replied. “That’s … that’s sort of why I’m on this journey.”

Blair blinked. “What do you mean?”

Heaving her shoulders, Door threw a glance to Geist, who responded by ignoring her and starting forward again. He wasn’t about to help Door explain; that much was clear. So with that knowledge in mind, Door winced and began following him. Her hand motioned for Blair to start walking, and as the other girl and her Companion fell into step beside her, Door took a deep breath and spoke.

“Um. A lot happened you don’t know about. I mean, you know about Team Matrix, right?” Door asked.

“Yeah. Those two we battled in Wellspring Cave, right? And … that thing that happened in Accumula. I heard about that one on the news,” Blair replied.

“Heh. It’s a bigger deal to me, I guess,” Door said. “Blair, those people are all about Companion freedom or something like that. I guess they’re starting some kind of robot uprising, and to do that, they’re repeating a lot of what Team Plasma did fifty years ago.”

Blair raised an eyebrow. “So what does this have to do with real pokémon?”

Door gave her an awkward smile. “See, that’s the weird part about it. You know Amanita, right? She came up with a way to make real pokémon out of dream smoke. And there’s a fog of the stuff in the Dreamyard and bubbles of it in the old Entralink and Lostlorn Forest. I think real pokémon are coming through those, but no one’s controlling it. Clearly, it’s not happening all the time, or we’d be flooded with real pokémon right now.” She held up a hand. “And before you ask, that’s all relevant because I think Team Matrix is causing it. See, there’s this guy they call the Electric Messiah, and he’s dead, but they need him for their robot uprising somehow. So they’re trying to bring him back to life, and I think they want to do it with dream smoke. And to do _that_ , they want us to find Reshiram or Zekrom.”

Blair stopped in her tracks and stared blankly at Door. The other trainer paused a second later, awkwardly shifting from one foot to another as she stared back.

“Wait, _what_?!” Blair exclaimed.

Door rolled her head towards Blair. “Oppenheimer, the Matrix leader? He cornered me in the old Nimbasa Amusement Park. He told me he’s trying to get one of us to find Reshiram or Zekrom so we can help him find something in the Entralink that will bring his Electric Messiah back from the dead.”

“Wha—one of us?” Blair murmured.

Exhaling, Door nodded grimly. “Yeah. Me or you. Preferably me, but if I absolutely refuse to do it, they’ll somehow involve you, I think. Either way, one of us is supposed to be the hero Hilda King was supposed to be fifty years ago. He thinks that’s how he’ll get his hands on one of the legendary dragons.” She paused. “By the way. Did I mention they’re planning on using us to _resurrect the dead_?”

Blair shook her head. “Door, wait. Start from the beginning. What does any of this have to do with a robot uprising specifically? Like … why do we need to help them resurrect this … what did you call it?”

“As Door said, Team Matrix’s goal is to spur on a Companion revolt,” Geist explained. He stopped just ahead of Blair and Door, with Opal by his side. “To do that, Companions need to be sentient. According to what they said in Accumula, the Electric Messiah may be the key to that, but I have a feeling there’s something more to it than that. Otherwise, I find it difficult to believe that a single person would have figured out how to give all Companions true AI and then simply kept that secret to themselves.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, Door. Your explanations take a bit too long.”

Door reached over to punch him lightly in the arm. “ _My_ explanations, Mr. Exposition?”

For a long moment, Blair stared at the both of them. Door could see it in her eyes: the extreme alarm, the uncertainty, the slight revulsion. But what part of their explanation instilled that in her? The part where Door was chosen to summon one of the legendary dragons? The part where Team Matrix wanted to resurrect the dead in order to start a robot uprising? The part where they were willing to use Blair to make sure a dragon got summoned, one way or another?

Blair grabbed Door by the wrist and tugged her backwards. “Door, can I talk to you for a sec? Opal, stay right there. Um, you too, Geist, if you take orders from people who aren’t your primary user or something.”

“Certainly,” Geist replied. He clapped his hands together, dispelling the map.

At his side, Opal saluted. “You can count on me, Blair!”

“R-right,” Blair said. She didn’t say anything else until she pulled Door away, several feet from the Companions, and even then, she shielded her mouth from them and lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “Geist is a Companion, right?”

“What? Of course he is!” Door said.

“Lower your voice!” Blair hissed. “Okay, yeah. I’ve been thinking about this a lot too. What series is he?”

Door furrowed her eyebrows. “Series?”

“Come on, Door! This is important!” Blair hissed. “He literally doesn’t act like any Companion I’ve ever seen, so what is he? A souped-up Calliope? A Thalia?”

“I dunno,” Door replied with an indignant hiss and a shrug. “He says we should consider him a Calliope, but I kinda think the whole system thing doesn’t apply to him. I mean, he’s the prototype and all.”

There was a long silence after that. Blair’s expression blanked, and Door could practically see her processing that statement.

“What?” Blair asked.

“Oh. Crap.” Door rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah. Long story. Amanita Fennel used to be his owner, but before that, he belonged to my great aunt. And by that I mean … I’m Brigette Hamilton’s granddaughter.” She fanned her hands out in front of her and forced a sheepish smile. “Surprise?”

“W-what?” Blair squeaked.

“Yeah.” Door grinned. “Crazy, right? That might be a little bit of why Team Matrix is—”

Blair pulled away and threw her hands into the air. “Nope! Nope! I’m done! Opal, we’re leaving.”

She started back towards downtown Nimbasa City with her arms wrapped around herself. Without protesting, Opal trotted after her, a wide, empty smile plastered across her face. Door hesitated, then looked at Geist, who gave her a concerned look. Then, much to Door’s surprise, Geist sighed and strode after Blair. As soon as he passed Door, he cupped a hand around his mouth.

“Miss Whitleigh! Wait!” he called.

“Nope!” she called. “Not gonna do it!”

“I didn’t want to do this, but…” Geist shook his head. “Opal. Grab her.”

And for the second time in five minutes, something Geist did surprised her: namely, getting Opal to follow his orders. With a smile and a salute to him, she swept an arm around her partner and whirled her around to face Geist. Geist stopped, hands on his hips, face contorted into a concerned frown, and as he looked Blair over, Door couldn’t help but keep her eyes on him.

On the one hand, it sort of made sense. Geist was a systems Companion, owned by a storage network administrator. He must have had tools he could use to connect to other Companions somewhere in his digital core. But on the other hand, Companions _couldn’t_ control other Companions like Geist just did. Not with that much ease, anyway. After all, it was a blatant threat to security, so why _would_ anyone design a Companion with that ability? That was the literal definition of hacking when it came to them. And if Geist could do that, then…

Door thought back to Join Avenue. The HVAC system. How had Geist known immediately that Starr had hacked into it?

“I know this all is unusual, Miss Whitleigh,” Geist began, “but you must understand that you are—or were, perhaps—as much a part of this as Door is. I’m not sure why; my guess is that Team Matrix is desperate enough to require a backup plan, should Door be unable to complete her duties as Hilda King’s replacement.”

“You … you shouldn’t be able to _guess_ ,” Blair murmured. She looked at Door. “You see this? This is too much, Door. I barely know you, and you … you…”

“I know,” Door said. She let her gaze drop to her feet. “I’m sorry, okay? When I agreed to bring Geist back to Amanita, I didn’t know any of this would happen! I didn’t know about Team Matrix, and I didn’t know my family had anything to do with this, and I certainly didn’t want Team Matrix to drag other people into it! I mean … you were going to go on a journey. You were going to be a trainer! That’s so cool on its own! You didn’t deserve any of this. You deserve to just go out there and have fun.”

The conversation lapsed into another silence. Door kept her eyes on her shoes until she heard a sigh from Blair. Looking up, she could see the girl frowning at her Companion.

“Opal. Put me down,” she said.

“You got it, Blair!” Opal replied cheerfully.

Once Blair’s feet met the ground, she shrugged Opal off and hugged herself again. “You know you had nothing to do with me not wanting to be a trainer, right?”

Door shook her head. “You didn’t have to get Wilbur, you know. You could’ve started off with a fake tepig, just like a lot of other trainers.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Blair snapped. “No one could have replaced Wilbur. But ever since I found out he’s real and that real pokémon are around the region, I … I just got curious.” She looked away, breaking eye contact with Door. “Also, I suck as a trainer. The simulations I went through at school weren’t too far off. I don’t know if it’s just because I keep holding back or what, but … my heart’s just not in it. I want to find out more about real pokémon and dream smoke and the way faukémon interact with dream pokémon. I want to study things and figure out what makes them tick, you know?”

“You want to be a researcher,” Geist said quietly.

Blair looked at Door and thumbed towards Geist. “Okay, I don’t hate Companions or anything, but that still freaks me out. How is he able to do that?”

Door folded her hands behind her head. “He’s weird.”

Geist gave Blair an awkward smile and a shrug, as if to confirm what Door had just said.

Blair exhaled. “I want to know about him too. And…” She glanced at him. “You’re right. I still want to train my pokémon because that’s what they want, but I don’t want to earn badges or anything. I just want to figure out what’s going on.”

“And you can,” Geist said. “The problem that Door had been getting at is that if you wish to figure out what’s going on, that path will be both dangerous and complicated. Door and I have only told you as much as we know, and I can tell that you wouldn’t have believed Door had I not spoken up. You can decide at any time to break away from us. Only Door has to move forward to ensure that Team Matrix will be stopped.” He extended a hand to her. “So with that in mind, what will you choose?”

Her eyes flicked to his hand, then to Door, then to Geist’s face.

“Hey, can you tell me something?” she began.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Door asked.

“Wilbur,” Blair said. “What will happen to him if he battles?”

Door snorted. “What’re you talking about? Real pokémon can battle fakemon. Here.”

She stepped back and produced two poké balls, one for each hand. Holding them out in front of her, she opened both at the same time and released Jack and Knives. Jack barked and brandished one of his scalchops, and Knives merely cooed and started grooming herself with a paw.

“Check these out,” Door said. “I mean, you’ve seen Jack battle, and Knives? Soloed a gym leader. Of _course_ real pokémon can battle! You’ve met Red, too, and he’s real. He’s just not ready to battle, sorry to say. But give him enough time, and I know he’ll be just as cool as Jack and Knives. Point is, real pokémon? Can definitely hold their own. They might even be more badass than fauxkémon! Isn’t that right, guys?”

Jack barked again with pride, swinging his scalchop with fervor. Knives merely hummed and fluttered her ears.

And then a tornado of leaves smashed into the walkway right next to Jack. With a squeal, Knives swept Jack off his feet and bounded out of range, only to skid to a halt behind Geist. A moment later, something else crashed into the walkway, this time harder and louder, sending a network of cracks across the glass-top surface. Lights flickered out beneath the party’s feet, but the glow of the city still provided enough illumination for Door to see Starr rising from the walkway. On one shoulder was a servine—Monkshood, Door realized—and on the other, Belle sat and grinned.

“You all are so _boring_ ,” she said. Then, she tilted her head back, slapped the back of one hand against her forehead, and squeaked in falsetto, “Oh, Doreen! All of this is too much for me to handle! Can my sweet little tepig battle? Whatever will I do?” She placed her hands on her hips, tossed her head, and lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll protect you. I am _so_ cool. And single, by the way.”

Door gritted her teeth. A hot bubble of rage instantly filled her as she stepped forward. “Shut it, Belle.”

Belle let her voice drop to its normal range as she slid off Starr’s shoulder. “Ooh, did I hit too close to home? You’re way too much, _Doreen_. You know, if you want a girlfriend, all you’ve got to do is _ask her out_ like a _normal, well-adjusted_ person.”

“That’s it!”

Door jumped forward, only to be caught in mid-air by Geist. He put her back down and curled an arm around her front to hold her in place.

“Think rationally! She has pokémon that can take Jack out!” he snapped. Then, swiveling his head towards Belle, he added, “Just as pleasant as ever, I see, Miss Maybelle.”

“Only because I don’t have to take orders from _you_ anymore,” Belle grinned. “Speaking of, nice to see you getting over your prejudices, Doreen. I’d kill to have a Companion as powerful as Zero-One, and I do mean that literally. But you? You get one handed to you in a fancy bow, and all you do is mouth off to its face.”

“Oh, I will bash your face in.” Door shoved against her Companion’s arms. “Just let me go, Geist! You know she’s asking for it!”

“All the more reason _not_ to do anything rash,” Geist replied. Then, to Belle, he added, “Well? What is it this time?”

“Yeah, what’s your problem?!” Door barked. She settled down in Geist’s arms, not because she was finally agreeing with him but instead because she knew he wasn’t about to let her go. “Wasn’t it enough that I had to be dragged around by you and your creepy boss a few days ago?! What, do you have some other kind of crazy religious bull to shove at me?!”

“Oh please, honey. I’m an atheist,” Belle retorted, pressing her fingers to her chest. “No, Doreen. I was sent here by Lady Magdalene herself for follow-up questions!”

In one fluid motion, Belle whipped her hand away from her chest and tossed a poké ball before her. Where Belle had stored the ball, Door couldn’t tell, nor did she have much time to think about it, as a liepard—which must have been Pride—burst from the ball and landed on the cracked walkway. The moment he landed, he bound towards Jack and Knives, claws extended and lips curled back into a snarl. Before he could touch either of them, Jack stepped forward, whipping his scalchop to the side. Water swirled around it, but rather than sinking into his blade, he whirled it into an orb and smashed the sphere of water directly into Pride’s face. The water churned, engulfing the liepard and throwing him back, headfirst, into the ground where he had started. Shakily, he rose back to his paws and growled.

Water Pulse. Jack knew Water Pulse. Door blinked for a second, realizing she had forgotten to ask Geist if _any_ of her pokémon had any new surprises up their sleeves, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she pushed it back out. She could work with this. With a deep breath, she gritted her teeth and pushed away from Geist.

“Sorry, Belle,” she snarled. “I don’t have any questions.”

Belle snorted. “Not you. _I_ have questions for _Motoko-senpai_ over there. See, Lady Magdalene didn’t quite get everything she needed … but Starr can!”

“Wait, what?!”

Starr barreled for Door and Geist. Door took a step back, instinctively throwing her arm out to protect her partner, but Geist brushed past her and swept his hand up between them with a poké ball already in his fingers.

“Antares! Flame Burst!” he called.

A blaze of light flared up in front of Door, and a small form spewed flames directly into Starr’s face, driving the Companion backwards. Geist swooped forward and down, catching his pansear on his shoulder before he glanced back at Door.

“Concentrate on Belle,” he said. “I can fend off Starr myself.”

As if to punctuate that thought, a yowl drew Door’s attention back to the battle. Pride had leapt at Jack and was now in the process of raking the claws on both of his front paws across the dewott’s face. At the final swipe, Pride shoved, sending Jack reeling back. Then, Jack’s movements slowed, and an angry, orange glow began to ebb from his skin. He swept his body towards Belle’s liepard while his voice grew from a low growl to a high-pitched shriek. Just as the scream escaped him, the orange light burst from his body, and he slammed all his weight into his opponent. Pride screamed and flew through the air, only to smash into the barrier between the edge of the walkway and the five-story drop on the other side.

Belle snorted and recalled her liepard, then leapt backwards into a run. Monkshood whirled around her and took to the field with a hiss, and Door sprinted after them both. As she neared Belle’s servine, she pulled out a poké ball and summoned her darumaka at her side.

“Boomer, Fire Punch!” she cried.

Just as she passed, she could feel the heat and see the bright glow of light coming from her pokémon. The thick thwap of a fist on flesh, followed by the roar of flames, told her that the punch had connected, and the rush of wind and leaves made it clear that Monkshood hadn’t gone down in one hit. But all of her attention now was focused on Belle, who had pulled out not one but two poké balls in response. Door narrowed her eyes at them, trying to determine if one looked familiar.

“You took Scout, didn’t you?!” Door snapped.

“Scout? Forgive me, Doreen, but I’m not up-to-date with whatever stupid nicknames your friends have,” Belle sneered.

There was another thwack and another rush of flames, and Belle lifted one of her hands to recall Monkshood with the first poké ball. The other hand tossed her second ball into the air, and with a burst of light, a panpour dropped onto Belle’s shoulder and leapt forward, claws exposed. Jack met the panpour head on, blocking the monkey’s Fury Swipes with his scalchops. Both of his blades took on an amber glow, just before he smashed one into the panpour’s shoulder.

“My watchog!” Door snapped. “You took him! Give him back!”

“What, the one with the broken face?” Belle grinned. “Why do you care? He’s _dead_.”

Her panpour spewed a jet of steaming water at Jack. Jack shrieked as it caught him in the shoulder, but a second later, he dipped and cut one of his scalchops deep across the panpour’s stomach.

“He’s _mine_ ,” Door barked. “What do you want with him anyway?!”

Belle smiled as she recalled her panpour and released another pokémon. This time, the white glow took to the skies, and as it flapped its wings, the silvery light that had engulfed it burst, revealing a tranquill. It dove at Jack, who responded by swirling water around his scalchops and firing another Water Pulse.

“Your cute little Scout is going to be our first test,” Belle explained. “To create life out of nothing. To give organic form to the inorganic. That’s just one part of our ultimate goal, you know.”

“Organic form…” Door sneered at Belle. “You guys are crazy!”

“We wouldn’t be so crazy if you knew _why_ we were doing it,” Belle retorted.

The tranquill sailed past the both of them. Belle stopped and let it clip past her, flicking her braids into the air. Door stumbled, however, pinwheeling around just as her dewott fired another Water Pulse at the bird and missed. Beyond them, Starr rushed at Geist again, but Geist dodged and extended an arm, allowing Antares to perch on his hand and fire another Flame Burst into Starr’s chest. The flames whipped around the other Companion, slowing him down but not stopping him completely. He extended a large hand at Geist, only to have his target step backwards, out of reach.

“Of course,” Belle said, pulling Door’s attention back to her, “you’d already know this if you just asked Astro Boy over there.”

“Astro…” Door furrowed her eyebrows. “Do you mean Geist?! What does he have to do with anything?!”

Belle rolled her eyes. “I told you. He has something important stored inside him.” She tapped her temple. “Some really important data that Lady Magdalene and Mr. Oppenheimer want to make sure is intact. It’s taken decades for Mr. Oppenheimer to find Robobutler again. It’d be a shame if all the stuff he’s been carrying around with him for that long is gone.”

Door stared. Behind her, she could hear a bird’s screech, cut off shortly by the roar of water. Shaking her head, she frowned.

“Geist _can’t_ have decades’ worth of information stored in his cores,” she said. “He was wiped before he got to Amanita! If you really worked with him for months, you’d know that already!”

Belle snorted and smiled. “Oh, honey. And if _you_ had been around him for as long as we have, you’d know you can’t wipe _everything_.”

And then, behind her, Door could hear the last thing she expected to detect on the battlefield.

Starr’s voice. Singing.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do…”

Door slowly moved her eyes back to the battle behind her. Even Belle’s tranquill and Jack stopped, as all heads turned towards Starr. He stepped forward, closer to Geist, hand outstretched. Door had expected Geist to step out of the way, for Antares to attack, for either of them to defend themselves, but instead, Geist lowered his arm, causing his monkey to skitter back onto his shoulder with a chatter.

“I’m half-crazy, all for the love of you.”

As Starr continued to sing, Geist’s face blanked. His features slackened, and his eyes lost their usual, all-too human shine. Instead, blue sparks flashed across his pupils—a sign that Door recognized from all the Companions that would be brought to her father. She remembered them, the older ones that struggled to process data. The ones whose cores were overloading because they were too old, too overworked, or too infected with a smattering of malware to boot properly. And here she was, watching it happen to Geist in an instant.

If she didn’t do something…

“It won’t be a stylish marriage. I can’t afford a carriage.”

“Knives!” Door cried.

Starr reached out, one of his hands nearing Geist’s arm. “But you’ll look sweet, upon the seat, of a bicycle built for—”

A pignite plowed his front hooves into Starr’s chest, and the Companion was launched off his feet and onto his back. In a flash, Blair was at Geist’s side, jamming her fingers into his wrist. He jerked his head back and gasped, his eyes flickering to life once more.

“Okay, Wilbur!” she ordered. “Rollout!”

With a grin, Door moved to stand behind Jack. “And Jack? One more Water Pulse!”

Wilbur squealed and dove into a roll, driving his bulky body straight into a recovering Starr. At the same time, Jack whipped a new orb around his scalchops and fired it into Belle’s tranquill, and with both attacks together, both Starr and the tranquill came crashing down at Belle’s feet. Belle recalled her tranquill, then stooped down to help Starr to his feet.

“Objective met,” Starr announced. “Analysis of LFA system complete. Status: fully operational. New objective: rendezvous.”

“Rendezvous, huh?” Belle chuckled and leapt into her Companion’s arms. “You’re lucky, Doreen. Seems like we’re done doing business here.” She paused. “Oh, hold on! You wanted your watchog! Well … maybe you’ll see us around Cold Storage. That’s where Hilda went next, isn’t it? Ta!”

Starr whipped around and bounded away, dashing first to the edge of the walkway and then leaping over. Blair and Door rushed to the edge themselves, but by the time they reached it and peered over, Starr had already vanished. In her frustration, Door pounded the barrier with her fist, then whirled around to see her pokémon scampering towards her. Exhaling, she strode forward and wrapped an arm around Jack.

“Nice job, you two,” she said. Then, cracking a grin, she added, “Jack, I didn’t know you could use Water Pulse and Revenge. Guess I have to get back to training you soon. And Boomer?”

She turned to see Knives hoisting Boomer above her head with a coo and a happy smile. Boomer, it seemed, was already fast asleep in her paws.

“Uh, nice work too, I guess,” Door muttered.

“Don’t forget to take some credit for yourself,” Geist told her quietly.

She jumped and faced him. He stood behind her, one hand on Antares and the other hanging at his side. Somehow, he looked tired, and that alone caused Door’s pride to evaporate.

“You okay?” she asked.

Geist chuckled. “I’m fine. I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“Yeah, you did. Remember, I’m gonna need you for the rest of our journey, and I sure as crap can’t drag something as heavy as a Companion to the nearest pokémon center.” She playfully punched his unoccupied shoulder again. “So don’t do it again.”

Gingerly, he rubbed his shoulder, right where she punched him. With a smile, he said, “Noted. Glad to hear my assistance in Nimbasa Gym didn’t change our relationship much.”

Door snorted. “Not if you go all dead-eyed doll on me. What happened, anyway?” 

At once, Geist’s expression took on a distant look. He flicked his eyes from her to the side and back to her again. “I’m not sure, honestly. I only have records of a core reboot.”

“Which one?”

He locked eyes with her. “The LFA core.” Then, after a brief pause, he raised his hands. “But it’s fine, Door. It’s still locked, Starr didn’t access it remotely, and it’s running all right now.”

Door frowned. “You know that doesn’t answer any of the questions I have.”

“Yes.” Geist lowered his hands. “I know.”

“Hey.”

Both Door and Geist looked up to see Blair standing by the edge of the walkway. One of her palms rested on Wilbur’s head, and by her side, Opal stood with her own hands clasped over her heart. While Opal gazed at them with a faint smile, Blair and Wilbur regarded them with a hard frown.

“Listen. I don’t know what’s going on exactly,” Blair said, “but whatever it is … count me in.”

—

_> THALIA.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, mass production notes, day 70. There is one advantage to the lightweight chassis that I’d forgotten to mention: it’s cheaper to make. You can blame Brigette for this revelation. She had been working with the accounting and marketing departments for our fledgling little company ever since I’d announced that I wanted to mass-produce the Companions. She’s a natural at that sort of thing, you know? Of course she would be. She’s more charismatic than I am—or at least she’s the one who’s always confident around other people. Me? I just think of myself as a problem-solver of a different sort. I’m good at coming up with solutions in the lab, not among people. That was never my department, even back before any of this began. That was always…_

_[pause]_

_Anyway, as she figured out, it’s easy to market a Companion to the general public if you have a cheaper alternative. Giving people choices is a self-marketing strategy. Students, office workers, families, and the like will take a look at the price tag of Calliope and actively hunt for a cheaper alternative in Erato or Clio, and the wealthier families who want their children to set off on journeys equipped with top-of-the-line tech will look at Erato’s spec sheet and actively hunt for the more expensive and supposedly higher quality Calliope. All you would have to do is figure out a way to tell both groups that they need a Companion._

_I don’t claim to understand marketing or even this sort of logic, but the fact of the matter is that you can produce far more lightweight Companions at a cheaper cost, which in turn means that no one will miss a chassis or few that I’ve decided to take for my experiments._

_Today’s test was simple. Figure out how many cores a Companion can function on before the chassis gives out or before the cores’ balance is completely unworkable. Or, to put it a little more bluntly, I want to see how human I can make a Companion’s personality. Hence, my first step was to add more personality cores and balance them out with emotion cores and morality cores as needed._

_Results? Well, first off, you can’t have a Companion with double the number of cores as a Calliope. Or at least you can’t do it with a lightweight chassis. Actually, the upper limit for a lightweight chassis is literally only five anyway, and any more than that causes the thoracic harness to collapse into the pelvic supports. So … technically a failure in that regard._

_For that reason, I’ve decided to eliminate all lightweight testing beyond swapping out cores and focus exclusively on testing with the standard chassis—which, honestly, I probably should have done from the beginning, but we live and learn. And perhaps make excuses for why Calliopes disappear from the production line now and then._

_In any case, transference of a six-core, dual-persona system from the lightweight to the standard chassis led to far better results. The end product was a far more personable Companion who was able to emulate human emotion far better than Erato. She’s also capable of storing a far higher number of commands in the extra space afforded to her by this sixth core, which means that she’s basically a performance bot. I’ve shown the preliminary results to Brigette, who surprisingly responded with a request for a refined model to replace our marketing team’s Erato unit. If all goes well, Brigette is even considering marketing her as a purely entertainment-based Companion—like a gaming computer, only … not._

_I’ve named her Thalia, after the muse of comedy. Thank the gods I’d already used Erato._

_[end recording]_


	30. Driftveil City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door loses.

Door awoke slowly the next morning with the last hazy image of Blair, dressed like Elesa, battling her for a gym badge dissipating with the rest of her dream. She blinked lazily, staring up at a pale patch of sunlight playing across the ceiling of a trainer’s dormitory. Yawning, she stretched and turned over, worming her arm beneath the old, thin pillow as her eyes fluttered shut again. She was dimly aware of the sound of footsteps working quickly across the linoleum tiles…

…until whoever was making that sound ripped open the curtains.

“Good morning!” Opal shouted.

Door flinched hard, balling herself up on her side even tighter, but Opal threw the rough comforter off Door’s body and reached down to shake her awake.

“Wake up! It’s a brand-new day!” she added.

Door mumbled something into the pillow. In response, Opal straightened up beside the bed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that,” she said. “Could you repeat?”

Growling, Door threw herself onto her seat and brandished a fist at Opal. “I’m gonna scrap you!”

“Oh! You’re awake!” Opal said, as if she didn’t hear the threat. “The time is now 10:44 in the morning. It is sunny, with a high of 75 degrees Fahrenheit today.”

Door leaned out of the bed, holding her hands out as if she was about to wring the Companion’s neck. Still seemingly ignoring Door’s response, Opal pulled the bundle of clothes she held beneath one arm into the open and tossed them into Door’s hands, forcing the girl to fumble and, finally, stumble out of bed.

“I’ve been instructed to inform you that your Companion, Alpha Zero-One, has already packed your things and chosen your outfit for the day,” Opal continued. “I have also been instructed to wait for you until you awoke, then accompany you to your Companion and my primary user. I must allow you to stop for breakfast if you so ch—”

Scoffing, Door tossed her clothes onto her bed and began changing. “Who instructed you?”

“Sorry! Calculating,” Opal said. “Ah! Companion Series Alpha Zero-One gave me these instructions. I have a global instruction to follow his orders whenever possible.”

“Of course,” Door grumbled. “Blair probably told you to do that.” She finished getting dressed and tossed her bed clothes to Opal. “So. Where are they?”

“Companion Series Alpha Zero-One and registered user Blair Whitleigh are both outside, Miss Hornbeam,” Opal replied. “They had been for the past two hours and forty-five minutes.”

Door eyed her. “Doing what?”

“Training, Miss Hornbeam.”

With a deep breath, Door patted her pockets and stopped.

“And my pokémon?” she asked.

“With Series Alpha Zero-One, Miss Hornbeam.”

Door was outside within five minutes, ignoring the looks from people she and Opal nearly bowled over on their way. They didn’t have to go far after that to find Blair and Geist. Just outside of the pokémon center, Geist was standing at a bench, with Blair seated on it and Antares in her lap. It was as if they had collectively known that Door would be storming out of the center at any moment—which, Door had to admit, they probably did thanks to Geist. None of them even looked up in surprise at the appearance of Door and Opal. Blair merely kept her attention focused on Antares as she cracked open a TM over him. At the same time, Door could see just the hint of a smirk playing across Geist’s face, so he was the first victim of her morning rage.

“Geist, what the hell?!” she demanded.

“Good morning, Door,” he replied pleasantly.

“Nope! Talk,” she snapped as she pointed dramatically at Blair’s Companion. “The hell is the big idea?!”

Geist glanced at Opal. “I take it you didn’t stop for breakfast.”

“No, I’m afraid not, Companion Alpha Zero-One. Your registered user, Doreen Hornbeam—”

He held up a hand. “If you don’t mind, please go to the Bridgeview Deli across the street from here. Door will need a dark roast coffee, black, and a bagel sandwich. The ham and egg is well-reviewed. Plain bagel, toasted. I’ll wire you the funds. Stay on target and don’t talk to anyone besides the counter staff at your destination. Understand?”

Opal saluted. “Instructions understood! Please wait ten to fifteen minutes for the completion of this task.”

With that, she trotted off. Blair looked up from petting Antares to watch her go.

“Uh, she’ll be okay, right?” Blair asked.

Geist put his hands on his hips. “Most likely. We’re in a safe part of the city, but I’ll keep an eye on her, if that’s what you wish.” He watched Opal cross the street and trot to the deli in question while he addressed Door. “Now, what were you saying?”

“I don’t want breakfast,” she mumbled.

“Give that time,” Geist responded.

“Anyway,” Blair said, cutting Door off before she could snap at Geist again. “He’s ready, Geist. One pansear with Torment, as per request.”

She pushed Antares, prompting the monkey to chatter and jump back onto his trainer’s arm. Geist shrugged, using the motion to boost his pokémon up to his shoulder, at which point he smiled and patted the monkey’s head. Leaning back, Blair pulled open a leather bag next to her and rummaged through it.

“So! Who’s next?” she asked.

“Hold up,” Door growled as she clapped a hand onto Geist’s arm. “You let me sleep in, you send Opal to bother me, and you sneak out here behind my back to do … what exactly?”

“In his defense, a lot of that was my idea,” Blair said. “I woke him up early because I wanted to talk to him, so I let you sleep in to get some privacy. Then when I found out your pokémon didn’t really have a wide variety of moves, I asked Geist to get your pokémon so I could use some of my TMs on them. You do know that you can stop at pokémarts now and then to buy stuff other than poké balls, right? Ah!” She pulled out a TM. “Grass Knot. Awesomely versatile and perfect for the next gym leader. Can anyone use this one?”

Without a word, Geist pulled a poké ball out of his pocket and flicked it open. Knives materialized beside him with a coo, and he motioned to her with a flourish.

“Audino,” Blair replied with a smile. “Nice choice.”

She cracked open the TM over Knives and let the golden light shower down on the rabbit. Knives closed her eyes and let it sink into her skin until nothing was left, after which Blair closed the TM and placed it in her lap. With a squeak, Knives opened her eyes, twitched her ears, and padded off to the bushes to the side of the pokémon center’s courtyard.

“I think I have something here for Jack too,” Blair said. “You know, the more grass- and water-type moves you can teach your team, the easier the Driftveil Gym will be. Unfortunately, you can’t really get ice-type TMs this far south, so we’ll just have to make do. Door doesn’t have anything else that can learn Grass Knot, does she?”

Geist summoned Jack by his side and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Nothing that can withstand a ground-type gym leader.”

“A ground-type gym leader?” Door repeated with a quirked eyebrow. Then, she extended both hands. “Also, give me back my pokémon.”

Without a word, Geist pulled all six of Door’s poké balls out of his pocket and dropped them into her waiting hands. At the same time, Blair gave her an odd look.

“Uh, yeah? Driftveil’s gym leader specializes in ground-types. I thought you knew that.”

Shoving her poké balls and her hands in her pockets, Door straightened up and pulled her shoulders in. “Well … _yeah_ , it _was_ , back when Hilda and Rosa went through the circuit, but it’s not like Clay’s still around. He was old as balls when he battled Rosa, you know.”

“Yeah, um, the gym leader _isn’t_ Clay,” Blair said. “Hello? It’s Roland Stone, heir to Devon Corp? Head of Devon’s Unova branch? Tell me you actually did your research. Door, you’re the heiress of Halcyon Labs, Devon’s biggest—”

“Shh!” Door hissed. “Geez, tell the whole city, why don’t you?”

Blair grumbled in exasperation. “Okay, but do you seriously mean to tell me you don’t know a thing about Roland Stone? Devon Corp? Any of that stuff related to your family’s company?”

Door grinned sheepishly and shifted from one foot to the other. “I might have … not really paid much attention to that kind of thing. You know. Living my own life. Being a normal kid.”

“You were in the dark about your own family’s history and business dealings for—how old are you? Fifteen?” Blair said blandly.

“Hey, I grew up in Nuvema for a _reason_ ,” Door protested. She motioned to Geist as she continued, “My family is literally trying to keep me out of things! I didn’t even know this hunk of junk _or_ the fact that he’s apparently a family heirloom until literally a few days ago!”

With a side-eyed glance, Geist responded, “The hunk of junk is standing right here, and he would prefer to be kept out of this particular argument, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine,” Blair sighed. “But still, how did you not know about Roland Stone? He’s the son of a _champion_ , not to mention an expert in ground-types. He’s even won a few tournaments back in Hoenn. Besides…”

Blair dug through her bag again, this time pulling out her phone. Tapping on it, she summoned a hologram of the Unova League’s insignia: a poké ball surrounded by eight stars. It was quickly replaced by the flash of a badge, followed by a stern-looking, silver-haired young man with piercing, blue-gray eyes. Door thought he looked vaguely familiar—perhaps from press releases relating to Halcyon and Devon’s rivalry that she barely paid attention to—but the look on his face in that particular image sent a shiver down her spine. There was no warmth to the man’s expression. No joy. Just pure, hard steel.

“It’s not like the Unova League’s gym roster is secret or anything,” Blair continued. “In fact, it’s made public specifically because they _want_ you to prepare for it. Like … have you guys even announced your intent to battle Stone yet?”

“I put in a word,” Geist replied. “It seems there are plenty of open slots thanks to the fact that Mr. Stone puts on somewhat less of a show than Ms. Priestly does. We can walk in this afternoon at the very earliest, but there are slots until seven this evening, as well as one slot open at about ten in the morning tomorrow.”

“Hm. Tough call. I’d go with the slot tomorrow morning if I were you,” Blair said.

She leaned back, hanging one arm over the top of the bench. Holding up her phone, she flicked her thumb across the screen to bring up a set of pokémon: a krokorok, a palpitoad, and an excadrill.

“See, both Jack and Knives are pretty strong, and with their moves, I don’t think they’d have any trouble with Roland’s krokorok or palpitoad, respectively,” Blair continued. “It’s the excadrill I’m worried about. Those are supposed to be wicked strong, and they’re part steel too.”

“That won’t necessarily be a problem,” Geist told her. “Steel-types don’t resist water, and Jack knows a distance move. So long as he can keep himself away from that excadrill’s claws, he should be fine.”

“Uh, aren’t the both of you forgetting something?” Door asked.

Blair tapped her phone, dispelling the holograms. “Like what?”

“Cold Storage?” Door growled. “You know, that place where Belle told us to go next?”

The other trainer shrugged. “When?”

Door hesitated for a beat, then narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘when’?”

“I mean when did Belle say she would be there?” Blair replied. She stood up, dusted off her jeans, and let her hands linger on her hips. “Okay, let’s say we go there. How do we know Belle will actually be there right now? Do we just wait around for her to show up?”

“She has a point,” Geist said. “Also, Cold Storage is now owned by Devon, so it’s not a place we can simply go to.”

“Right,” Blair responded. “Plus, it’s obviously going to be a trap. Are you ready for that? Sure, Belle’s only attacked you by herself, but what if she brings reinforcements?”

Geist nodded. “Mm. And Cold Storage is a storage facility, so not only is its security tight, but also, it’s difficult to get into and out of. If we go in without knowing what to expect, Team Matrix would have the upper hand. They may know the layout better than we do, and they may cut off any means of escape.”

“And of course, you can’t use your abilities as the prototype to get at the blueprints,” Blair said.

“I’d prefer to avoid doing anything illegal unless my user is in dire circumstances, yes,” Geist responded.

“Okay, is it going to be like this from here on out?” Door demanded. “Just the two of you bouncing off each other like that?”

Blair did a double take, then shifted her glance to Geist. “Huh. I would’ve thought she’d ask.”

He opened his mouth to respond, only for Door to jab a finger his way.

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped. “Okay. Fine. You’ve convinced me. We’ll train first. But what about Cold Storage?”

“What about it?” Blair asked.

Door swung an arm into the air and let it fall back to her side with a slap. “We have to go there at _some_ point. Team Matrix is making us follow along with Hilda’s journey, remember?”

Blair shrugged. “So we’ll wait until they push us to go there. The whole point is we can’t just rush there ourselves—not without knowing when they’ll be there or how many of them there will be. At least if they send someone out to chase us there, we can be sure they’re at least one member short. We may even get some information from whoever they send.”

Geist leaned towards Door. “I like her.”

“Of course you would.” Door threw up her hands. “Fine. We’ll wait. Where do we train?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Blair nodded to Geist. “Can you plot a course for the Driftveil Market? There should be a lot of trainers hanging around there.”

Geist bowed. “Consider it done. We can depart once Opal returns, which I’m sure would be at any moment.”

“Geez. You don’t have to be so subservient. You’re starting to creep me out again,” Door muttered with a roll of her eyes. “But whatever. Knives! Where’d you go? We’re about to leave!”

A startled quack and a loud bang told Door exactly where her audino was. Whirling around, she looked into the bushes. At that second, Knives popped out from the foliage, holding a battered ducklett by the neck.

“Grass Knot?” Blair asked.

“Most likely,” Geist replied. Then, to Door, he added, “Congratulations on your new ducklett.”

—

The coffee and sandwich, while not the best of either Door had ever had, helped. She didn’t want to admit this to Geist, of course, but as soon as she had food in her stomach and caffeine clearing her head, she felt herself perk up and her mood ebb slightly. This meant she could finally take in Driftveil City as it was, rather than as a gray, sparsely populated blob.

Nimbasa City was still within sight, just across the Clay River from Driftveil’s eastern shoreline. The Driftveil Drawbridge still connected them, and in the shadow of that, in what had once been a riverside park, was the pokémon center. Door had thought the view was beautiful the night before (though she certainly wouldn’t admit that), and even now, a half an hour after they departed, she still thought it was almost peaceful. Driftveil didn’t have the glitz and glamor of Nimbasa City, nor did it have the sheer volume of tourists of Castelia. This was the far edge of Unova, in an area technically considered to be pure suburb, and as such, it had the same quiet, insider’s charm as Accumula or Striaton. No one frequented Driftveil City besides locals and trainers: people who kept to themselves or had a clear goal in mind.

However, it was by no means a safe neighborhood. Old, dirty high-rises were still clustered together, especially further back from the riverbank. There was a wide road straight from the river to all points of interest for trainers, sure, but beyond it, Door could see dark alleyways, narrow and cracked avenues, broken-down storefronts, rusted metal gates, and all the other hallmarks of a place that had seen better days. Driftveil was not a city for tourists, and it made no effort to hide that. It was for trainers and locals only, and only locals could travel wherever they pleased.

In theory, anyway. Door could sense that Geist was on edge by how quiet he looked, how straighter he stood, how intensely he kept his eyes on the map projected from his hand. And although she was sure he couldn’t _think_ —not really, anyway—she could guess what was processing through his mind. It was too _quiet_ , and that was the problem.

“So,” Door said, desperate to break the silence. “Where’re we going?”

“I told you already,” Blair replied. “Driftveil Market. It’s a world-famous marketplace where people can go to buy trainer goods for cheap. Lots of trainers congregate there because some of the stuff they sell can’t be found anywhere else in Unova—stuff like incenses you need for breeding and powerful herbal remedies. There’s even a move tutor over there, which means not only will there be plenty of trainers, but there will also be trainers eager to try out new moves. You can’t pick a better place to battle around here.”

Door snickered. “You really did you research, didn’t you?”

“Well, you have to,” Blair said. “You can’t be running around unprepared, you know. That might work for the early gyms, but later gyms in any region are a lot more challenging. You can’t just go from, say, the fifth to the sixth gym without doing _some_ training in between.”

Door frowned, intending on objecting to what she thought was an implied slight, but before she could, Geist stopped just in front of the entrance to a ramp. His partner nearly plowed into his back but saved herself at the last moment by taking a few stumbling steps backwards. Blair and Opal stopped beside her, with Blair peering over the edge of the trainer’s walkway.

“What the crap, Geist?!” Door demanded.

He shifted, sliding his body back enough to let Door see his map. One small arrow blinked just beside a pin on a neatly drawn grid.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “Listen, Door. This is more important than ever, but the northernmost towns in the Unovan circuit are some of the most dangerous places in the region, either because the trainers are tougher or—in Driftveil’s case—the locals are not particularly welcoming.”

Door sighed and rolled her eyes. “Geez. First Blair goes on about how tough the last half of the circuit is, and now you’re getting on my case too. I get it. I need to be prepared and whatever.”

“Door, this is serious,” Geist said. “I’m not talking about training. Driftveil isn’t safe, so it’s imperative that you let me do my job as your Companion by guiding you. Follow me at all times and don’t run off on your own. Do you understand?”

She quirked a smile. “C’mon, Geist. When have I ever done anything as stupid as—”

The second she saw Geist furrow her eyebrows at her, she cut herself off. Geist let the silence draw out between them for a few more seconds, as if he was driving home his point. Then, he closed his hand to dispel the map. His eyes lost their blue glow and instead remained unlit, brown, and all-too-human. Door realized right away that Geist was making an effort to look like a living, breathing person—perhaps, she thought, to avoid being stolen. Whatever was down there, it must have been bad if it scared Geist. Well … if he _could_ be scared, that is.

“Anyway,” he said, “it’s down this way. Opal, I know you can’t make yourself look more human, so please stay within Blair’s line of sight. Blair, are you ready?”

She tore her eyes away from the edge of the walkway to nod vaguely. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m ready.” She took a deep breath and stuck a hand in her pocket. “Let’s go.”

With a curt nod, Geist led them down the ramp to the street below. Door kept her eyes on the rest of the street, gazing intently at what she felt was the _real_ Driftveil as it quickly approached her. Dingy buildings grew closer, shadows grew deeper, and people—sometimes flanked by pokémon but never Companions—hustled down cracked sidewalks. Door felt herself grin. At long last, after days of traveling, she was finally getting a piece of the gritty Unova Hilda and Rosa must have seen. She could even smell it: the dirt and grime, the raw sewage and asphalt, the uncomfortable, heavy musk of a real city.

Door realized that it had been a long time since she had enjoyed a city. _Really_ enjoyed it. She had been so busy messing with Team Matrix that she had no time to take in Castelia or Nimbasa that she couldn’t stop and _take in_ a city. Not that she would have anyway for either place. She still felt the same as she had a few days ago, back before her journey. She felt that the only part of Unova worth experiencing was this one: the old, broken-down part that had barely changed since Hilda or Rosa had been through. Sure, this city had changed physically in many ways—Driftveil was certainly larger than it had been back then, for one—but it was the spirit of it all that counted.

But still, it made Door wonder. How could she have not noticed that spirit in places like Castelia or Nimbasa? Were they too busy, too changed from when Hilda or Rosa had been through? Or was _she_ changing?

She stared at Geist’s back. He moved smoothly, naturally, not at all with the robotic lag that Opal had. And even though Door could only see a crescent of his face, it looked real. Yet … that didn’t creep her out as much as it had when she had found out the truth about him. And she thought about Blair’s reaction to Geist compared to hers and about how much she personally relied on Geist in her last battle. Was Door … starting to _like_ him? Not as anything more than a friend, of course, but … was she starting to see a Companion as more than just a Companion? And was she starting to like _Companions_?

Door scoffed to herself but disguised it as a cough. No. Companions were still something else to her, something that could never be human. Opal alone was proof positive of that. Nothing _Opal_ could do made her any more than an animate mannequin, a puppet pretending oh-so hard to be human. And if she wasn’t so amused by the fact that she’d nearly forgotten what _real_ Companions were like, Door was sure she would feel a little sick at the thought of Opal or any other Companion trying to humanize themselves.

It was just that Geist, at the very least, was good enough at pretending to be human that Door could forget about what he really was. Yes. That was it. Door was just lucky enough to have the right type of Companion that fit her preferences towards them. He didn’t change a thing for her.

“You seem weirdly chipper,” Blair commented.

“Huh?” Door snapped out of her thoughts just enough to swivel towards Blair. “Oh! Yeah. Why shouldn’t I be? The sun’s shining … kinda, anyway. The pidove are chirping—y’know, if there were any around here. Anyway, Driftveil Market, right?”

“I told you your attitude would change once you had breakfast,” Geist quipped.

“Shouldn’t you be navigating?!” Door shouted.

Geist smirked and turned his attention back to the path. “In any case, it’s good to hear that your mood is improving. It’s important to be in a positive mindset while battling other trainers.”

Blair chuckled. “You say that like Door hasn’t battled other trainers before.”

There was a long silence. Geist threw a knowing look over his shoulder until Door cleared her throat. Blair raised her eyebrows and flicked her eyes from the Companion to the trainer and back again.

“Yo, you’re gonna have to look forward if you’re gonna be guiding us,” Door growled.

“Oh my God. Are you serious?!” Blair exclaimed. “Door. Door, seriously? You have _four badges_. You’ve battled and won against _Belle_ more than once. Tell me you’ve battled other trainers.”

Door rubbed the back of her neck and mumbled something even she wasn’t quite sure was strung together properly. “I was gonna” and “I might’ve” stumbled past her lips, but that was it. When she swept her gaze over the side of the ramp and caught sight of something blue, she stopped attempting to explain herself.

“Well, to be fair, others tried to challenge her,” Geist said. “But I’m afraid she turned all of them down with a response I unfortunately don’t have the conscience to repeat in mixed company. Mostly, she battles against fauxkémon.”

“But … how?!” Blair gasped. “That would—”

Door held up a hand, forcing Blair to stop in her tracks. She hesitated, squinting to the street below.

There, perched on the roof of a car, was Belle. The agent grinned up at Door, waved, and leapt off gracefully, disappearing beneath the ramp.

And that’s when Door bolted.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Get back here!”

“Door, no!” Geist yelped.

She dodged his grasp as she practically threw herself down the remaining length of the ramp. At the bottom, she caught a glimpse of Belle dashing around a corner, down a side street. Door didn’t shout for her, didn’t bother ordering her to stop. She wanted to be as silent as possible as she chased Belle down. So, only dimly aware that any of her traveling partners were following her, she bolted down the side street and followed Belle. The thief led her down street after street, turning corners seemingly at random until Door lost all track of how long she had spent following the woman. Eventually, after rounding one last corner, she disappeared entirely, leaving Door to stumble to a breathless halt.

“Damn it,” she panted.

Then, slowly, she looked up and realized she had no idea where she was. The ramp and the safe zone were no longer in view. All that was left were unfamiliar high-rises looming all around her. There weren’t even people out that way, and looking at what surrounded her—at the nondescript, completely residential but run-down apartment buildings that boxed her in—Door could see why. All of a sudden, she felt very claustrophobic as a flicker of panic began to rise in her. Taking a deep breath, she mentally reminded herself over and over again that it wasn’t so bad. That Hilda had gone through Driftveil alone fifty years ago. 

Yet no matter how much she told herself that, the panic wouldn’t go away. That was _fifty years ago_. What about now? All the stories about what happened to people who wandered away from safe zones in urban areas hit her then. Wilderness was one thing. Getting lost in a city with a Companion was also something else. But getting lost in a city with absolutely nothing but one’s own pokémon?

“It’s okay,” Door muttered. “You’re fine. Your pokémon are awesome. No one’s around. Hilda did this before, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Just-just walk in one direction. You’re bound to find—”

A hand grabbed her by the shoulder, and she immediately shrieked. The hand turned her around, and suddenly, Door found herself face-to-face with none other than her own Companion.

“Geist!” she screamed. “Don’t do that!”

“Never mind that!” he snapped. “Take a deep breath. You’re fine.”

Door squirmed. “O-of course I’m—”

“Just listen to me for once. You’re panicking. Take a deep breath. Slowly through your nose, then out through your mouth. Come on.”

She followed his directions three times and felt her heart rate drop with each breath until, at last, she was calm. At that point, Geist visibly relaxed and bowed his head, then looked up, beyond Door.

“We’re not that far from the safe zone,” he told her, “but you _did_ run straight into one of the worst neighborhoods you could be in right now.”

“But—”

“I know. I saw her too.” He glared at her. “But that doesn’t mean you should have followed her. That’s what she wanted you to do.”

Door pressed her lips together. She wanted to protest. Geist _had_ left a golden opportunity right there. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself lowering her voice, mumbling nearly inaudibly to Geist.

“Where’re Blair and Opal?”

“I told them to go directly to the market,” he said. “It’s safe there, and there’s no point in getting the both of you in trouble.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

He smiled at her, but it wasn’t a condescending or smug smile. It was a sympathetic one, like the ones he gave her before she knew he was a Companion. Taking her by the arm, he spun around and started leading her away.

“Now come on. Stay close. The market is about a twelve-minute walk away.”

Door didn’t fight him. She let him take her down one street after another—nothing she recognized. All the while, she kept her eyes out for any sign of Belle. The anger she felt, not only over being led along but also over seeing Belle at all, still bubbled in the pit of Door’s stomach, but at the very least, the panic had ebbed away. Geist, it seemed, was right yet again. The more breaths she took, the less inclined she felt to bolt in a random direction.

It did not, however, stem her frustration.

“We were so close!” she yelled, curling the hand Geist wasn’t holding into a set of tense claws. “Belle was right there!”

Geist tightened his grip around her wrist. “Door, now is not the time.”

“I know,” she growled. “I know I lost her, and I should get over that, but—”

As they passed a side alley, Geist shook his head. “No, I mean I need to concentrate. It’s difficult to navigate without—”

“Weh-heh-heh-ell!”

Door froze as soon as she heard the laughter from the side street. Geist took one more step but jerked to a halt as soon as he realized his partner wasn’t moving.

“Door!” he whispered.

She shook her head and looked towards the sound of the voice, just in time to see a man step out of the narrow side street with his hands jammed into the pockets of his ripped jeans. He was followed by another man, then another, then another, and so on until Door and Geist found themselves surrounded by five men. Each man looked the same: tattered jeans, black leather vests, tattoos scrawled in black ink across their bare chests, hair either spiked or shaven. The only one who really stood out was the fifth, and that was because unlike his slender but muscular friends, this man was taller and built like a quarterback.

“Look what we’ve got here,” one of the smaller men said.

Another leaned in and inhaled deeply. “You smell that? Smells like newbie trainer.”

“Awfully far from the safe zone, little girl,” a third man added, his voice a mocking sing-song.

The fourth whistled and flipped the edge of Geist’s coat. “And lookie here at Mr. Nanny. Fancy!”

With an aggressive thrust, the first man leaned in close to Geist. “You’re a long way from Upper Nimbasa, pretty boy. Why don’t you take your rich baby princess back to where she belongs?”

Geist extended an arm across Door protectively, shifting himself to shield her from the men.

“I got a better idea,” the third man said. He pulled out a switchblade and flicked the edge out. “Why don’t you put your wallet and poké balls on the ground, and we’ll point you in the direction of the nearest safe zone?”

“I got an even better idea.”

The four men stopped and looked at the walking mountain. He crossed his bulky arms and glared down at Geist and Door.

“‘S been a long time since one of you trainers got stupid enough to wander out into local territory,” he said. “So let the Heartbreaker introduce you to a little local tradition.” He jabbed a thumb at his own face to indicate that he was, indeed, the Heartbreaker. “Battle me. Win, and we’ll give you a head start. Lose, and you give us your money. Got it?”

“And what if we say no?” Geist asked.

“Then the Heartbreaker’s associates will consider that a loss and deal with you accordingly,” he said in an overly polite tone.

To reinforce that point, he motioned to the man holding a switchblade. This man bared his teeth in a vicious grin and leaned in with a low laugh.

“Fine,” Door said.

Geist shot her a look. “Door, what are you doing?”

“Letting off steam,” she hissed back. “Besides, Blair said I needed to battle more, so fine. I’ll take your challenge, _Heartbreaker_.”

The Heartbreaker broke into a grin and laughed. He took several steps back while his subordinates planted their hands on Geist’s shoulders and led him out of the way.

“Door!” Geist barked.

“I’ll be fine,” she growled, pulling out a poké ball of her own. “But let’s make this quick! Boomer! Go!”

In an instant, Door’s darumaka took to the field, popping out in the air between her and the Heartbreaker before plopping onto the ground in his resting state. Door knew she didn’t have time to train him, but still, she smirked. All of the panic she had felt a moment ago was completely gone, especially now that she wasn’t alone. She could do this. She could take on this man and win. After all, Door had gotten this far. This was her element. She had collected four gym badges. She had beaten a member of a criminal organization more than once. She had even gone up against N, the rival of the former champion himself. Why would she have to worry about a street thug?

A second later, three separate reasons materialized on the field in front of her: a zebstrika, a krokorok, and a basculin. The three of them created a wall that concealed their trainer, with the zebstrika standing tall and sparking, the krokorok calmly folding its arms in front of its chest, and the basculin—the least realistic-looking of the three—glowing with a bright, blue light as it hovered three feet off the ground.

Door swallowed. “H-hey! You can’t—”

The Heartbreaker snorted. “Zebstrika, Shock Wave!”

Without hesitation, the zebra reared back on its hind legs, pinwheeling its front hooves for a second before slamming them into the pavement. An electric shock rushed out of its body and surged into Boomer, and an ungodly screech burst from somewhere within the faux darumaka. Boomer raised its hands, claws splayed skyward, as its eyes glowed and exploded. Snaps and sparks and smoke billowed out of the doll’s body until, at last, the attack was over, and Boomer fell limply onto the pavement. Door quickly recalled her pokémon. She didn’t have to look at its face to know the button was black. She simply knew, and because of this, she stood shaking on the spot.

“What’s the matter?” one of the lanky men called. “Did the big guy win already?”

Door cast a panicked glance towards Geist. “Can he do that?!”

“You’re not in a safe zone anymore,” he snapped. “Locals don’t follow standard League rules! That’s why you’re not supposed to be here, Door!”

“Your friend has a point,” the Heartbreaker said calmly, “but you’ll be delighted to know that this battle is legal according to the Unova League. Triple battle, sweetheart. Sorry I didn’t make myself clear.”

Shakily, Door turned back to the Heartbreaker. Her hand tightened around Boomer’s poké ball, and the other clenched into a fist. “You … you killed my darumaka.”

“ _You killed my darumaka!_ ” one of the other thugs sang.

“Battle’s over, Heartbreaker,” the second one said. “Let’s shake ‘em down and get outta here.”

Before anyone could do anything else, Door shoved Boomer’s poké ball into her pocket and threw out three more in one swift motion. Jack and Knives materialized before her, while Storm took to the skies above them, and as soon as all three were out, Door gave them no time to adjust.

“Jack! Knives! Storm! Water Pulse, Secret Power, and Quick Attack, all on that zebstrika!” she screamed.

Storm moved first and without question. She dove, streaking through the air until she plowed into the zebstrika. The zebra whinnied and reared back as the tranquill darted back into the air, far out of reach of the other two pokémon, while Knives stormed forward. Knives flicked a paw to her side as she ran, channeling a ball of pink light into her palm. She slammed the ball of light into her chest and dove under zebstrika’s front hooves, and as the pink light streamed around her body, she sprung up and bashed her shoulder into the zebra’s underside. At the same time, Jack unsheathed one of his scalchops and used it to weave intricate designs above him. An orb of water quickly formed on its tip, and once it grew to the size of Jack’s head, he swung his scalchop down and shot the Water Pulse at the zebra. By then, Knives had finished her attack and rolled out of the way, so the zebstrika could do nothing to defend itself but kick at the air. Jack’s attack consumed it, ripping it off its back hooves and tossing it into the street next to the Heartbreaker. Without even checking whether or not it could still battle, its trainer recalled it and smirked across the battlefield.

“Ay, the baby has _teeth_!” one of the other men exclaimed.

“Maybe,” the Heartbreaker replied, “but let’s see how gutsy she is when she’s got to deal with two at once! Basculin, Aqua Jet the audino! Krokorok, Assurance on the dewott!”

Somewhere inside the basculin, a light brightened, intensifying the blue glow that surrounded the robotic fish. It bobbed in the air, swinging itself backwards as water surged around it. Then, it shot forward like a water-propelled bullet, straight into Knives’s chest. Knives squealed as she was thrown off her feet, only to land with a thud at Door’s. Jack chirruped and turned to her, intending on helping his partner up, but before he could move, the krokorok rushed at him. He whirled back around and thrust both of his scalchops in front of him just in time to block his opponent. It hissed and swept a paw at him, its claws grazing his cheek.

And then, vines burst through the concrete beneath the crocodile’s feet. Knives, curling one glowing, green paw in the air, stood and hummed and thrust her arm upward, and the vines tore the krokorok away from Jack.

“Good,” Door growled. “Jack! Water Pulse while it’s still in the air!”

With a grateful bark to his trainer and his partner, Jack twirled one of his scalchops again to create another orb of water. This one he sent sailing into the crocodile just as his partner’s vines released it, and with a wet smack, Jack’s orb of water engulfed his opponent and tossed it backwards, directly into its partner. Both fauxkémon emitted mechanical squeals as they flew across the street and into the pavement.

“Storm, finish this!” Door barked. “Air Cutter!”

Far above, the tranquill screeched in confirmation. She dove down, rushing towards the pavement until she pulled out of her fall at the last minute. There, she clapped her wings together, firing off a rush of wind and silver crescents. The gusts slammed into both the krokorok and the basculin, sending them sailing into a lamppost and a mailbox, respectively. Neither rose before the Heartbreaker recalled them. Just like he had with his zebstrika, he didn’t even look at them to check whether or not they _could_ fight; he simply took them off the field, pocketed their balls, and clapped.

“Well done, missy!” he exclaimed. “Few people have been able to defeat me in battle! It’s certainly been quite a while since I’ve—”

He stopped short. The cocky smile plastered across his face instantly vanished, and his skin drained of all color. Before Door could move, she heard a bang, followed by the roar of fire and the screams of the Heartbreaker’s associates behind her.

“You fuck-ups!” the Heartbreaker roared.

Door whirled around to see Geist leaping backwards, out of their reach. Antares was on his shoulder, spewing a steady stream of Flame Bursts at the four men. The gang stumbled out of the fire’s way, flailing as they scrambled for safety.

“I distracted the girl for you, and what do you do?” the Heartbreaker snapped as he barreled forward. “Blow off the target!”

Without warning, he wrapped his meaty arm around Door and lifted her off the ground. Her pokémon cried out in unison, turning as one towards the Heartbreaker. Knives already held a pink ball of light in her paw, Jack swirled a Water Pulse above his head, and Storm flicked her wings and swung her body backwards. But before they could fire off any of their attacks, Geist cried out instead.

“Wait! No! You’ll hit Door!”

At once, Knives and Jack’s attacks dissipated, and Storm stumbled in mid-air and fluttered to a halt. Antares fired off one more Flame Burst to keep the other men at bay while his trainer ground his heels into the pavement and glared at the Heartbreaker. The bulkier thug adjusted his grip on Door, shifting her until he pinned her to his stomach with one arm and held her face in one hand. She yelped and thrashed, screaming into his meaty palm.

“There ya go,” the Heartbreaker said. “Here’s the deal. If you want me to let Princess go, recall your pansear.”

Door shook her head behind his hand, screaming again into it in a desperate attempt to stop Geist from following the man’s orders. Geist fixed his eyes on her first, then shifted his gaze back to the Heartbreaker, and without a word, he did as he was told. Door tried to kick at the Heartbreaker’s shins, but the thug ignored her and dug through her pockets until he found her poké balls. When he found them, he tossed them to Geist, who caught them effortlessly.

“Good,” the Heartbreaker said. “Recall hers too.”

Geist didn’t argue, and neither did Door’s pokémon.

“Very good,” the Heartbreaker said. “Now. Wallet and poké balls on the ground and step away with your hands in the air.”

“Wow, lame.”

Door, Geist, and the thugs froze at the sound of the new voice. The Heartbreaker turned towards the source—fully, just enough to let Door see Belle sitting on the rail of an apartment balcony with Monkshood perched next to her. Gracefully, she slid off the rail and landed on the pavement a story below, and her servine followed shortly afterwards. As Monkshood lashed the road with a set of vines, Belle pulled a pair of guns from her belt behind her and aimed them carefully at the Heartbreaker’s head.

“You call this a mugging?” she said. “That’s sad. You Unovans don’t know how to party!”

“Back off,” the Heartbreaker snapped. “Back off, or I twist the girl’s head off.”

Belle smiled and put a bullet in the concrete just an inch from his toes. She raised her gun right back to his forehead.

“I dunno, mister. Think you can do it before I shoot you dead?” She stopped. A laugh escaped her, and she used one of her guns to motion to the rooftops. “Oh. Forgot to mention. My Companion up there has a rifle aimed at your friends. I shoot you, and he shoots one of them. Say hi, Starr!”

As the other four members of the gang emitted low, panicked barks, Door glanced up to see Starr calmly kneeling at the edge of one of the high-rises. He held a rifle in his hands, aimed steadily at the thugs below. With a squeak, Door stared at Belle, who gave her a wink and a smile before bobbing her head from side to side.

“Of course, I just need one of these guns to shoot you,” Belle said. She shifted one gun to the group of men. “Say, you’ve got four friends. I’ve got a gun, a sniper, and a servine who knows Leaf Tornado. What’re the odds that I hit the same guy both of my friends hit? I figured I’d give you some simple math because, you know, you’re an idiot.”

“She’s crazy, man,” one of the other men said shakily.

Belle jerked her head to him. “See, he’s smarter. Caught on quick and everything.” Rolling her head back to the Heartbreaker, she frowned. “Of course, if any of you were actually _smart_ , without the -er, then you would’ve brought _guns_ instead of sad little knives, but you know, I’m not gonna judge. Much.” She straightened the arm pointing at the Heartbreaker. “So instead of that, let me tell you how this is gonna work. I’m gonna give you to the count of three to let the girl go, and then I’m gonna give you a thirty-second head start. If I see any of your butts by the time thirty seconds are up, I’m using ‘em as target practice. And I take it you’d dislike _that_ a little more than your friends would, Big Guy.”

The man gritted his teeth. “No one tells the Heartbreaker—”

Belle rolled her eyes and shot the ground at his feet again. Training her gun back on his head, she sneered. “One.”

“Lady—”

“Two.”

The Heartbreaker shut his mouth, eyes flicking from his gang to Belle and back again.

Belle, meanwhile, tensed her finger over the trigger. “Two and a half…”

All at once, the Heartbreaker dropped Door onto the ground and barreled away with the four other men in tow. Door instantly scrambled to her feet and rushed to Geist’s side, and the Companion hurriedly shoved her poké balls into her hands, gave her a curt nod, and fixed his eyes back on Belle. Door whirled around and expanded one of her poké balls as she watched the Matrix agent. At first, Belle frowned as she turned to face the retreating gang. Then, slowly, she trained one of her arms onto their backs.

“One Mississippi,” she muttered. “Two Mississippi … three Mississippi…”

She glanced at Door and smiled broadly. Door shifted into a fighting stance.

“Hey, Doreen,” Belle said. “Hold on a sec, would you? Four Mississippi…”

Starr dropped to the sidewalk with a bang and started for the group. This did not comfort Door at all, but she didn’t move, not even when she felt Geist’s hand on her shoulder.

“Door,” Geist whispered, “we need to go. Right now.”

She shrugged him off. “No. Not when she’s right here.”

Geist looked up, towards Belle again. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around Door’s waist but didn’t pull her close. Door could hear his feet shuffling, as if he was preparing to run, and strangely, although every part of her wanted to stay there and fight Belle—to demand to know why she was there—she didn’t resist Geist’s movement.

Belle, meanwhile, cocked her head, shut one eye, and aimed.

“Eight Mississippi … nine Mississippi…” She frowned. “Hey, Starr? You bored as I am, buddy?”

Starr stopped. He didn’t say a word. At his response, Belle grinned.

“Yeah, me too,” she said. “Thirty!”

And then, she fired. In the distance, the Heartbreaker screamed. Belle frowned and straightened, cocking her arm up as she examined her target through the smoke pluming out of the barrel of her gun.

“Mm. Hit the right butt-cheek when I was aiming for the left,” she muttered. “Ah well. We all have our off days.” She raised her other gun until it was level with Door’s head. “Now you’re probably wondering why I saved your hiney. I mean, you think I’m the dastardly villain, doncha?”

“Might’ve crossed my mind,” Door replied.

Belle chuckled and rolled her head towards the trainer. “Relax, Doreen. I’m not gonna shoot ya.”

With that, Belle shifted her arm to the side just slightly—just enough to shoot Geist in the left shoulder. Geist reeled back with the strike, pulling away from Door just as Starr rushed forward. Before Door could process what had just happened, she found herself swept up and over Starr’s shoulder, and the next thing she knew, she was watching the world spin around her as the Companion carried her off with his partners in tow. Below her, she saw Geist recover himself and freeze, hand on his shoulder and wide eyes on Door.

And as Starr leapt into the air and bounded onto the rooftops—with Belle using Monkshood’s Vine Whip to follow—all Door could do was scream Geist’s name.

—

_> EUTERPE.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, mass production notes, day 112. I’ve received an interesting request from the regional nurses. The thing is, some of the more rural pokémon centers are understaffed, and the urban pokémon centers are often overwhelmed with patients. It’s difficult to keep a well-rested rotation of nurses in either case, but if they could have something that can relieve them and fill in during lower-traffic hours, maybe even something that can pick up duties that the nurses themselves can’t perform, then this alone would be a huge help to the quality of medical care across the board. How could I refuse a request like that? Even Zero-One agrees that this is the exact sort of thing we were hoping Companions could be used for._

_The problem is that a Companion like this needs to be durable. She needs to operate for long periods of time, so she needs the cooling system I’d originally developed for the lightweight Companions in addition to the one already installed in most units in order to support the heavier workload. Then, of course, she needs a chassis strong enough to lift both heavy equipment and pokémon as well as a chassis that can withstand damage from an unruly patient._

_Well, there’s an easy enough solution, isn’t there? I was able to reduce the mass of the standard chassis in previous experiments; why couldn’t I increase it? By reworking the skeletal matrix, adding a thicker casing and more muscular support, and including extra ventilation, I was able to create a heavy-duty chassis perfect for the Pokémon Nurses Association’s needs._

_And, well, it works. Granted, I had to stop partway through testing to add in a secondary power cell and create a dual-battery system because even with a redesigned battery, her battery time had been, oh, eight hours. On the positive side, after all of this work on on her power grid, I managed to triple her uptime, rather than simply double it. Gotta look on the bright side. That’s what Bill would have done with setbacks, right?_

_Anyway, according to Zero-One’s predictions, this should be sufficient enough to suit our needs. After all, it’s not like anyone will be forcing a Companion to work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. These are only supposed to be covering for nurses during times when hospitals and pokémon centers are short-staffed. Besides, if a center or hospital really wants to have a Companion on staff for that long, Halcyon will be more than willing to sell them another one or few._

_Geez, that sounded predatory. I am definitely not made for this business stuff._

_Anyway, this new unit is called Euterpe, after the muse of music. I thought it would be appropriate, what with blissey, audino, and wigglytuff being the signature pokémon for nurses and all._

_Okay, yes, it’s a stretch, but give me a break! There wasn’t a muse of medicine._

_[end recording]_


	31. Cold Storage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door argues religion.

On the one hand, Starr didn’t drop Door. Not even when she snapped out of losing sight of her only hope of rescue or of being carried from building to building across the dilapidated southern half of Driftveil City. No, he didn’t dare drop her at any point of the trip, not even when he landed on the other side of a chain link fence, into the dried grass just before a row of warehouses. Starr simply had no intent on letting Door go, and thus, Door had no hope of freeing herself, no matter how much she struggled.

On the other, he also didn’t _drop_ her at any point in time or send her falling down several stories to a concrete death below. He kept her locked tightly in a fireman’s carry from the neighborhood where she had left Geist to the edge of what she assumed to be Devon’s storage compound, and if she wasn’t so angry, she would be grateful for small blessings.

Unfortunately, she was indeed angry—angry as hell, even—so the second Belle, Monkshood, and Starr landed on solid ground and slowed to a walk, Door shrieked and thrashed in the Companion’s arms.

“Let me go!” she screamed. “I’m warning you, you cheap bucket of bolts!”

“Oi!” Belle snapped. “Watch your mouth, Doreen! Starr’s a certified Terpsichore unit! Top o’ the line, military-grade stuff, and you’d better believe that I went through hell to get my hands on him.”

Door swiveled her head around, peering over her shoulder as best as she could at Belle and her servine.

“This is a friggin’ military Companion?!” Door screeched. “One that you _stole and hacked_?!”

“More like relieved a certain naval base in Sinnoh of a Companion they were criminally neglecting, but yes,” Belle replied with a smile. She patted Starr on the shoulder not currently occupied by Door. “Anyway, if you had just gone to Cold Storage like a good little monkey, maybe I wouldn’t have had to make my poor pet put his paws on you. Or, you know. Shoot your Companion.” Belle brought the back of one hand up to her mouth. “Shame, really. I would’ve given my left arm for a chassis that nice. Pun definitely intended, Doreen. Get it? Because Mr. Fancypants is probably gonna lose his left arm because of that shot?”

Door’s eyes went wide at what Belle had just said. Thrashing around in Starr’s arms, she tried her best to lunge at Belle, but the best she could do was get her feet on the ground. The Companion held her back, not by snaking an arm in front of her the way Geist would have done but instead by simply planting his hands on her shoulders. The feeling of his fingers digging into her flesh caused Door to yelp in pain, but a simple jerk forward was the last thing she did to try to get away. After that, she stood, panting, in Starr’s grip.

Belle sucked in a breath through pursed lips. “Ooh, Doreen. Gotta say it’s nice to see that you finally care because let me tell you. Team Matrix has had its eyes on you for quite some time, little girl—way before you even got a hold of that Companion of yours. Guess it comes with the territory of being the granddaughter of a cold-hearted…” She visibly shuddered. “ _Capitalist._ ” She paused to wave her hand in the air. “Anyway, we were all a little worried, you know. About how you kept going on and on with that whole ‘I hate Companions because they’re creepy’ thing. Made quite a scene in Accumula over it, from what I hear.” Belle cracked a grin. “Too bad I missed it. It sounded _hilarious_.”

Door tried to yank herself away from Starr, but the Companion held fast. In fact, his fingers dug a little deeper into her shoulders, and in response, she grit her teeth. Why was it so easy to get away from Geist but not Starr? That single question ignited a blaze of frustration in Door that left her trembling in Starr’s grip.

For that reason, when she spoke next, her voice was a heated snap. “Why do you care?!”

Belle’s smile widened as she reached over and grabbed Door’s chin. With a growl, Door wrenched her head away, but Belle barely reacted. She only trotted forward, towards one of the warehouses. Monkshood bounced after her, but Starr lingered for a few beats, as if to gauge what Door was going to do. When it was clear she wasn’t about to move, he kicked at her heels and forced her to stumble forward. Together, the group started into the complex.

“I care,” Belle explained, “because you’ve got _the_ most important Companion ever created in your hands, and I’m just a wee bit jealous of that.”

Buildings closed in around them again, and Door could feel the slight claustrophobia she had felt on the streets of Driftveil creep into her chest. Each warehouse looked exactly the same, with the exact same, boxy, windowless designs, exact same heights and widths. Even the placement of Devon’s logo—the stark, clean D with a white curve looping into a straight, red arm—was exactly the same: eye level, on a metal plaque above a warehouse number. Something about this place felt wrong to Door, and not just because she was technically on enemy territory. It was too clinical. Too clean. Too unfriendly. How could someplace at the edge of a city like Driftveil have absolutely no debris or graffiti? There was no garbage, not even the slightest bit of broken glass, and all of those walls and Devon signs were _clean_.

She tried to focus on the conversation at hand. She needed to keep her thoughts clear and her fears under control if she hoped to get away. Gritting her teeth again, she glared at Belle.

“So take him, why doncha?” she growled.

“Mmm, doubt you’d be fine with that _now_ , Doreen,” Belle said. “Besides, I’m not about to take something like the prototype by _force_. I don’t have a deathwish, you know.”

Door cocked her head back, using it to motion to Starr. “Didn’t stop you from hacking a military Companion.”

“Ah, but that was for a good cause,” Belle said. She wagged her finger in front of Door’s face. “Always pick your battles. Don’t get me wrong, Doreen; Starr’s my boy! But to the military, who cares about one missing Terpsichore? No offense to Starr, but he’s not like the Holy Grail of Companions, you know.” She turned back around. “Besides, contrary to popular belief, I’m not some petty criminal. I’ve got standards. I’m all Robin Hood with her Merry Man, you get what I’m sayin’?”

There was a break in the line of warehouses just ahead of them. Beyond it, Door could see a massive, boxy building sprawling across the shore of the Clay River. She had seen it from the bridge, but it looked far bigger than it had seemed back then. Four Terpsichore units were seated in front of the building, deactivated and slumped over on the ground. Each one of them wore security uniforms emblazoned with Devon’s logo. The set of doors beside them was wide open.

“No,” Door finally said, forcing herself to swallow her fear. “You’re a nutcase working for an evil cult that wants to start a robot uprising. And now you’re telling me you have standards?”

For a second time, Belle stopped and grinned at her. This time, though, she shook her head, wagging her aqua braids back and forth behind her. “Oh, Doreen. You don’t get it. And really, that’s the problem with you lawful good-types. You’re all about extremes. There’s always a good guy and a bad guy to you. You only see black and white! But what you don’t realize is that when you get right down to it, it’s always been just red and green. You get what I’m saying?”

Door pulled her head back and gave Belle a look: nose scrunched up, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. At her expression, Belle sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Okay, you’re looking at me like I’m really crazy,” she said. “Let me put it this way. Sometimes, when you think the villain of the story is oh-so evil, sometimes, they’re actually good guys, and you’re just getting one perspective of things. You know, maybe I’m actually trying to do some good in the world, and you’re stopping me from doing that. You ever think of that? Sometimes, the Chosen One isn’t Neo, you know. It’s really Mr. Smith.”

Door opened her mouth slightly, but otherwise, her expression refused to change. And still, she said nothing.

This time, Belle’s eyes widened, and she raised her eyebrows. Slowly, she leaned towards her Companion, frowned, and muttered loudly to him.

“Starr, she’s not getting my pop culture references. What do I do?”

Immediately, she snapped herself back, straightening up as she planted her hands on her hips. A grin spread across her face, quickly, like it had always been there.

“Just kidding!” she said jovially. “I don’t give a shit. Monkshood, throw her in!”

With one quick motion, Belle’s servine snapped a vine around Door’s wrist, and Starr released her shoulders. Before Door knew it, the grass snake threw her by the wrist into the building, leaving her tumbling across a concrete floor coated with ice. Door shivered as she struggled to push herself to her knees. Every part of her throbbed, especially the shoulder that had slammed into the ground first, but things only got worse as she lifted her head and peered into the room.

Cold Storage was indeed a storage facility, much like the warehouses around it, but unlike the rows of warehouses, it was a refrigerated box. Crates of goods—raw materials that would one day become potions and revives—were stacked one on top of another all throughout the frigid space. And on top of every crate, there was a Companion or a human or a pokémon clad in Team Matrix’s uniform, staring down at her. At the far end of the row, there was a small stack of crates assembled to form a makeshift throne, and on either side of the throne were four attendees—a human and a Companion on each side—all of whom were guarding the figure that sat in the center. 

Lady Magdalene perched on the throne her followers had created for her, with her hazel eyes fixed on a book in her lap—an actual, paper-and-binding book. Door narrowed her eyes at the Companion, but she didn’t look up from the book. In fact, she didn’t say a word or move to regard Belle, Starr, or Door, even after Door’s dramatic entrance.

As Door stared at Lady Magdalene, she could hear Belle and Starr step inside. The heavy, metal doors of the facility clanged shut a second later, and after that, Starr’s hands reached down to pull Door to her feet. Door struggled halfheartedly as the Companion walked her forward, closer to Lady Magdalene. When Magdalene was within arm’s reach, Starr shoved Door back down, forcing her to kneel before the leader of Team Matrix. Lady Magdalene did not look up, not even once, as she read aloud from the tome in her lap.

“The Prism Bible, Gospel of the First Acolyte, song seven, verse twenty-one,” she recited. “And lo, on the boundary between dreams and reality, the Bough Door shall open, and the lost Messiah shall step through. His first words shall speak of truth, and his first words shall speak of visions. And so you, Children of the Dream, faithful of the Electric Messiah—you must listen, for his first breath shall call forth the new world.”

Lady Magdalene clapped the book shut, and a plume of dust and frost curled into the air. She lifted her glowing, hazel eyes, casting a golden light through the veil of dust. Her face was expressionless, but somehow, it looked old, wise, and as cold as the room.

“Search her,” she said.

Starr pulled Door back to her feet and gripped her arms. Door tried to squirm away, but he held fast, keeping her in place as Belle patted her down. The thief pulled each of Door’s poké balls free and examined them one by one until she separated Boomer’s from the group.

“Five live pokémon, one dead pokémon, and no weapons,” Belle said.

“Take the dead pokémon and give her back the five live ones,” Lady Magdalene instructed. “I have no need for them, and I trust her.”

Belle shoved poké ball back into Door’s pocket, and only then did Starr release her. Door stumbled away and shoved her hand into her pocket, searching for Jack’s poké ball.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Doreen,” Belle drawled. “Or did you not notice how many of our troops have their eyes on you?”

Door stopped and sneered at Belle. “Give me back my darumaka. And while we’re at it, I want my watchog back too.”

“No can do,” Belle said.

She tossed Boomer’s poké ball to Lady Magdalene’s attendants, one of whom caught the sphere and pocketed it in a flash. Door started forward, intent on getting it back, but Belle clicked her tongue.

“Uh, Doreen, the full army around you?” Belle said. “Man, you’re not that bright.”

“Agent Maybelle,” Lady Magdalene said lightly, “please remember our task at hand.”

Belle whirled around to face Lady Magdalene and bowed. “Sorry, my lady. Just needed to make sure our guest understood her situation.” She punctuated that thought with a side-eyed glare at Door.

Door bared her teeth in response. “I don’t. So why don’t you enlighten me? Tell me why the oh-so good guys who only want the best for the world felt that shooting a Companion and kidnapping a teenage girl were so important to the grand scheme of things.”

Lady Magdalene eyed her subordinate. “Shooting a Companion?”

Belle stiffened where she stood. Her confident expression instantly melted into one of fear and frantic nervousness.

“I-it was only a scratch!” she said. “Just a little warning shot to get him to let go of our esteemed guest for a while!”

Lady Magdalene bowed and shook her head. “You have direct orders not to harm Zero-One.” She lifted her head again, fixing her gaze on Door. “But never mind. We have more important matters to attend to.”

She stood and padded towards Door. The black skirts of her dress rustled and concealed her feet, but Door could hear the distinctive click of heavy, heeled, steel-soled boots hidden beneath Lady Magdalene’s hem. As she drew closer, Lady Magdalene reached towards Door with a slender, pale hand, and Door found she couldn’t pull away. She could only stand there and let the Companion touch her with ice-cold fingers. Then, slowly, Lady Magdalene’s hand drifted to Door’s, and in an instant, Door found herself standing with one of her hands sandwiched tightly between both of Magdalene’s.

“Door Hornbeam,” she said. “There is so much I must tell you—things I have no doubt your family has not imparted on you. These are things that may decide the fate of not only this region but the world as a whole. Will you listen to what I have to say?”

At Magdalene’s final word, Door felt as if a spell had been broken. She found that she could move again, and she used the opportunity to pull her hand free. But she didn’t run. She didn’t reach for her pokémon. She only rubbed her hand gingerly as she gave Magdalene a cold glare.

“Only if you hurry up and talk,” she said.

A wave of murmurs rushed around her from the Team Matrix agents perched around the room. She couldn’t catch all of what they said, but words like “insubordination” and “insolence” worked their way through the noise. Door scowled, trying her best to keep her temper in check. She didn’t need an outburst. Not now, when she was alone.

So instead, she thought of Geist and of Blair. Where were they? Geist knew she had been taken, and he could track her pokémon. But would he be able to get help? What if he was jumped by another gang?

What if he wasn’t coming?

Door shifted her eyes back to Magdalene. No, she had to have faith in him. She was his user. He had an obligation to protect her. So all Door had to do was stall until he could get to her.

No matter how long it took.

At that moment, as soon as Door’s eyes fell back on Magdalene, the Companion lifted a hand and hushed the room. She smiled—her mouth forming a small, soft curve—before shifting her hand back down, over her book. Pulling it into view, she held it out for Door until, at last, Door realized she wanted her to take it. Cautiously, Door grasped the book and held it up, examining its cover.

The cover was black and leathery to the touch—most likely faux leather, Door realized. In its center, embossed into the surface in flaking, gold foil, was a strange symbol: a three-pronged figure, with two outer legs bending in curves up to a straight bar. In the exact center, pointing down between the two legs was a smaller leg, straight and about half the length of the sides. Above this symbol were the words “The Manifesto of the Electric Dream,” written in the same chipped gold foil.

“What’s this?” Door asked with a smirk. “Your bible?”

This elicited a second round of mutterings, but Lady Magdalene hushed her followers with another gesture.

“Yes,” she replied softly. “This is our holy book in its completion.”

Door looked up with a surprised glance. “I was only kidding about the cult thing. Are you guys serious?”

Lady Magdalene tilted her head and lowered her shoulders. “We are very serious, Miss Hornbeam.” She started walking back towards the throne. “Have you ever heard of the Children of the Electric Dream?”

Without taking her eyes off Magdalene, Door frowned. “No. Should I?”

Magdalene sat down daintily on the crates. She smoothed out her dress and beckoned Door closer. This time, Door didn’t need Starr to force her to do it. She walked forward, curiously, with her eyes glued onto the Companion.

“I admit our group is a bit obscure,” Magdalene began, “but we hope to do many good things in the world, once our Messiah has been returned to us. You see, Miss Hornbeam, our group had grown out of his teachings. What you hold in your hand is the written record of the life and words of the Electric Messiah, as written by his most loyal follower, the First Acolyte.”

“The … what now?” Door asked.

“Ah yes,” Magdalene said. “Forgive me. Our legacy is still rather new, and thus, there are so many people who know our highest figures by other names. You, for example, know the First Acolyte as Oppenheimer, although this, too, is merely the name he had chosen during his baptism.”

Door raised her eyebrows and nodded vaguely. Whatever mystical wonder Magdalene held over her was now gone, and Door could now see that this Companion—or whoever programmed her—was without a doubt about as stable as gelatin in an earthquake. As far as she was concerned, anyway.

“Okay,” Door said, her voice increasing in pitch. “You guys are clearly not completely batty, but, hey, you do you. Why do I have to know this, exactly?”

“Because you’re the granddaughter of the Third Acolyte,” Magdalene replied with a light smile. “You see, Miss Hornbeam, long ago, the Second Acolyte, once also a true follower of the Electric Messiah, betrayed him and set in motion events that led to his downfall. The Third Acolyte, sister of the Second, allowed this to happen. However, we believe in forgiveness, and as such, we are willing to forgive the descendants of the Third Acolyte if one assists us in bringing the Electric Messiah back into this world.”

“Uh huh. So your absolutely, 100% sane leader told me,” Door squeaked with a nod.

“Then we have an understanding,” Magdalene replied.

“Not really.”

Door blinked, letting her look of abject disbelief dissolve. In its place was what, by then, felt like her default expression: the kind of barely restrained frustration that said she wanted to punch someone but knew that would be a horrendous idea. And indeed, she was very close to punching someone—not even necessarily Magdalene—but the idea of having thirty humans and Companions subsequently jump her all at once forced her onto a completely different path.

“See, here’s the thing,” she said. “From my perspective, I have nothing to do with this. And I don’t know what my great aunt did or what my grandma let happen; you all keep going around in cryptic little circles about it. But as far as I can tell, you’re a cult, you’re planning on starting some kind of robot uprising, and you’re worshipping a dead guy who I honestly have every right to assume is the reason why my great aunt went crazy.”

Another rush of murmurs rose around her, but this time, Lady Magdalene didn’t bother hushing her followers. The Companion merely glanced at them for a moment, then settled her eyes back onto Door.

“And that’s another thing,” Door continued, taking a step forward. “What’s with all this ‘Electric Messiah’ stupidity? He was just a guy who got himself killed. He was so insignificant that the history books spend more time talking about my great aunt than him. I mean, for Jiminy’s sake, you’re worshipping a dude named _Bill_.” She paused to snicker and place her hands on her hips. “Actually, come to think of it, maybe that’s why you keep calling him the Electric Messiah or something like that. It’s a crapload more dignified than _Bill_. That’s kinda like worshipping a dude named Claude or Ronald.”

Belle leaned close, framing her mouth with the side of her hand. “Yo. Realtalk, Door. You tryin’ to get yourself killed? ‘Cause I ain’t gonna pull clean-up duty if you’re tryin’ to get yourself killed.”

Door ignored her. After all, she got the reaction she wanted. The smile had vanished from Lady Magdalene’s face, and all around the room, the murmurs grew into shouts. Some of Magdalene’s followers pleaded with her to let them attack. Others accused Door of blasphemy and demanded that she repent. Door smiled, especially at the latter, as she held up her hands—one palm to the ceiling and the other supporting Magdalene’s book—in a mocking shrug.

“What, did I hit a nerve?” she asked. “C’mon. I’m all for people believing in God or whatever if that’s what makes them happy, but you guys are completely next-level here. Kidnapping? Raising the dead? Demanding that humans treat objects as equals? Worshipping a dude who killed himself? What’s so important about him anyway?”

At last, Lady Magdalene raised a hand to quiet her followers. It was a good thing, too. Some of them looked ready to leap off the crates and onto Door. Instead, they reeled back like growling dogs, waiting at bay for their master’s word.

“You should forgive her, my children,” she said. “Miss Hornbeam was raised by the Fallen Sisters themselves. She does not know the truth about the Electric Messiah.”

Door narrowed her eyes and folded her arms around the book. “So tell me. Be straight with me instead of all this stupid cryptic crap.”

“Doreen,” Lady Magdalene said, her voice soft and almost otherworldly, “the Electric Messiah was not simply a person. He was a teacher. He taught the First Acolyte that there is a meaning within all living beings, that every one of us has extraordinary potential within us, that although we may come from humble backgrounds, we can each do wondrous things in the world. Do you see the people all around you?”

At that point, Door couldn’t help but look up, at the crowds of Matrix agents. Each one of them looked absolutely livid, but there was something else in their faces: a sort of hurt Door didn’t expect.

“Every one of them came from lowly beginnings,” Lady Magdalene continued. “Gang members. Runaways. The homeless. Felons. People who did not just lose all hope but also all sense of identity. These are the people who were once convinced that they would fade away into loneliness and helplessness, a mere statistic in the eyes of circumstance. The Children of the Electric Dream gave them purpose. We told them that there is still meaning to their lives, that they may yet find what it is they were destined to do. Team Matrix merely consists of the most dedicated followers of the Children, people who are so committed to the word of the Messiah that they are willing to do whatever it takes to bring him back.”

“Even kidnapping?” Door asked softly.

“Sins which we will seek redemption for,” Lady Magdalene responded wistfully. “We know that one of the Messiah’s commandments is to use our potential to do good, but we are working for the _greater_ good. We must bring him back if we are to have any hope for paradise.”

Door broke eye contact with Magdalene’s followers to look at the Companion. With a frown, she said, “Oh really? And what greater good is that?”

Lady Magdalene rolled her head back up, straightening her neck. “Miss Hornbeam, what separates porygon, voltorb, and so forth from fauxkémon such as your watchog and darumaka?”

“That’s easy,” Door said. “Porygon, voltorb, and so on are real pokémon. Scout and Boomer weren’t.”

“You think so only because fauxkémon are newer than the others,” Magdalene replied. “But I assure you, there is no difference. Humans created porygon, just as humans created your watchog and darumaka. And just as humans created them, so did humans create my kind.” She lifted her chin. “The Electric Messiah saw no difference between a porygon and a rattata, and he saw no difference between a porygon and Ho-oh itself. To him, all living beings, regardless of how their lives began, are still important. All of us have potential. All of us have worlds of possibility within ourselves.”

Door shook her head. “That’s nice, but Companions aren’t alive. You can’t think for yourselves. You’re just robots. All you do is mimic us.”

Lady Magdalene lowered her head, and with it, her eyelids slid halfway over her eyes. The golden glow in them brightened until it seemed to ebb beneath her skin.

“Perhaps,” Magdalene said. “That is why it is of the utmost importance that we bring the Electric Messiah back. Only he can give Companions the ability to think.”

Door forced herself to smile again. “You sure about that? Because my family invented them, and as far as I know, true AIs aren’t a thing. You can’t take a Companion and make it think for itself. It’s just impossible because when you get right down to it, you still have to tell the computer what to do.”

“For you, it might be impossible.” Magdalene lifted her eyes again, and the golden glow flared even more. “But for the Electric Messiah, all things are possible. The Fallen Sisters had done everything they could to erase his legacy from history, but had you known him as he was fifty years ago, you would have realized that he was capable of so many incredible things. He created machines that traversed time, that pierced through space, that sensed the thoughts of trainers, that did so many fantastic, impossible things. The Second Acolyte may have been talented, but even I would not be possible without the Messiah as her mentor and muse. Creating true minds for all of my people would be no challenge to him at all. And once he does, once we’re free from the tyranny of the human race, we will help him return to his work and complete his magnum opus.”

At the end of Magdalene’s speech, Door furrowed her eyebrows. A cold, sick feeling settled into her stomach again. It never occurred to her until then to ask one simple question, but now that she thought about it, it could have been the largest possible elephant she could have ever found in a single room.

“What work?” she asked slowly. “If giving all of you true intelligence is just a _step_ , what was he working on that you’re so sure is going to pave the way to paradise or whatever?”

“No one knows,” Magdalene replied.

Door paused and turned those three words over in her mind. “No one—are you kidding me?”

“Not at all, Miss Hornbeam,” Magdalene said. “The Electric Messiah’s final work was a complete mystery to all except perhaps the Second Acolyte, who took the details to her grave. There are whispers, however. The Second Acolyte had claimed that he was merely working on his teleporter, but the First Acolyte has testified that there was more to it than that. He was working on a device that was sure to unite the world as one and open the door to a golden age, when all living beings may live in complete harmony. However, before he was able to complete it, he lost control of its power, and it divided him.”

“‘Divided him’?” Door muttered.

Lady Magdalene’s smile returned, and her eyelids fluttered half shut again. However, before she could explain, she lifted her chin and gazed at her followers.

“Zero-One,” she whispered. “He’s come at last.”

Above them, the human Matrix agents turned, a rush of confused murmurs filtering across them as they took notice of the Companions among them for the first time. Door noticed too, catching sight of their dead, glassy eyes and the blue sparks arcing across their irises. One of the Matrix agents reached up to touch the shoulder of the Companion next to him, but she wavered on her feet and pitched forward, swinging down towards the ground.

And then, the doors exploded off their hinges.

Door couldn’t see what happened next; the room quickly filled with pink smoke and swallowed her field of view. She gasped, then coughed and sputtered as the sweet, pink smog flooded her mouth and nose, yet she still had enough of her mind together to stumble forward, towards Magdalene until the Companion’s bright, golden eyes appeared mere inches from her. Magdalene seized Door by the arms and leaned in close, seemingly unaware of Door’s yelp and subsequent struggle.

“Shh,” she said. “There is not much time. Listen closely. I had my followers bring you here because we needed to speak with you alone. The truth is that the dragons will show us to the Bough Door, and the Bough Door will open as planned, but the Electric Messiah will not come back to us on his own. He hides beneath a mask, and he has grown used to existing within the Electric Dream. He must be convinced to come back to our world, and only you can do that. Will you do this for us? Will you convince the Electric Messiah to return?”

Door tried to wrench herself away, but the Companion held fast. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Door responded, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Magdalene leaned closer. “Please!”

Then, at last, a familiar voice cut through the fog. “Let her go.”

At the sound of Geist’s voice, Door and Magdalene stopped. The Companion lifted her head, peering through the smoke until it cleared enough to reveal her counterpart. Floating next to him was a musharna—Blair’s, Door realized, judging by the fact that Blair and Wilbur stood in the open doorway in the distance. Between Geist and Blair, Belle struggled in Starr’s arms, but she wasn’t the only one having trouble controlling her Companion. All around them, the Matrix agents were pinned down by their own. Some Companions held their partners in their arms. Others held their partners’ arms behind their backs. A few even pinned their partners to the crates. Taking all of this in, Door tried once more to wrench away from Magdalene.

“Geist!” she cried out.

He flashed her a grin before turning a serious eye to Magdalene. “I’ve hacked into your Companions, and I can order them to take you down if you hurt my user. So do the right thing and let her go, Magdalene.”

Lady Magdalene flashed her now-familiar soft smile before shoving Door towards her Companion. Geist reached out with one arm, catching Door clumsily and helping her regain her balance with only his right hand. Door couldn’t help but look down at his left, only to see it swinging uselessly at his side.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Geist, your arm…!”

He shook his head and grabbed her by the elbow. “It’s fine. Arms are easy to replace. Users … not so much.” With that, he looked at Magdalene. “We’re leaving. You’re going to let us. The authorities will be here any moment; it would be in your best interest to wait for them.”

Magdalene continued to smile softly at them, but her head slowly inclined to the side. Her eyes flashed gold, and Geist immediately doubled over with a strangled cry. He released Door’s elbow and brought his only working hand up to his face, pressing its palm against his eyes. Door grabbed onto his useless shoulder and tried her best to push him back to his feet. She was vaguely aware of the fact that the Matrix Companions were seizing and convulsing all around her, as if sharing his pain.

“Geist! Geist, what’s going on?!” she asked.

“She’s trying to break in!” he grunted. “Door…!”

Spurred on by his urgency, Door grabbed Geist’s good arm and tried to pull him towards the exit. Blair’s musharna hummed and glided to their side, pressing into Geist’s back to help him along. He shook his head and grunted, Door supposed, with the effort of keeping Magdalene out for as long as he could.

Then, something else happened. Geist froze, his legs locking into place. Door stumbled to a stop, and both she and the musharna tried to force Geist to move once more. But he refused, opting instead to stand perfectly still in the middle of the floor. The Matrix Companions convulsed, but this time, their reaction was more violent. Some dropped to the crates, while others bent backwards, their arms thrashing at their sides like limp snakes. A few even ripped away from their humans and fell to the ground in twitching heaps. Door cast a panicked glance at each of them, at the frantic humans scrambling to reboot their unresponsive partners.

And then, she looked at hers. His eyes were blazing blue with brighter lights than she had ever seen out of a Companion, and his gaze was locked onto Magdalene’s.

“LFA automatic defense system activated. Please stand by,” he intoned. Flatly. Mechanically.

Immediately after that, Magdalene screamed. She pitched backwards, arching her spine to an almost unnatural degree. Her hands clawed at the air, then at her face.

Somehow, amidst the chaos, Belle must have rebooted Starr, as in the next second, he was at Magdalene’s side. Sweeping her into his arms, he barrelled past Blair’s musharna, Geist, and Door, past Belle, and straight for Blair and Wilbur. Blair shrieked and stumbled aside, shoving her pignite along with her. As soon as she was safe, Door glared at Belle, who gave her an overconfident smirk in return.

“Don’t think this is over, Doreen,” she said. “This is just a tactical retreat!”

On his own, Monkshood whipped himself around, lashing his tail at Door and Geist. A stream of leaves erupted from the broad tip, and for a few brief, precious seconds, all Door could see was a storm of leaves. She braced herself against her Companion, riding out the tornado until the last leaf slashed past, and as she opened her eyes and looked out, she realized Belle and her servine were gone. All that was left was a stunned Blair and Wilbur at the door and the sounds of sirens somewhere in the distance. Door gritted her teeth and mentally calculated how far Belle could have run on her own. Not far, she realized.

But before she could go after Belle, however, Geist shuddered. 

“LFA automatic defense system shutting down,” he said. “Resuming default mode.”

Geist’s legs buckled, and his body slumped over his partner’s. Door yelped under his weight and used all of hers to keep the both of them standing. He groaned and rubbed his face with his good hand, then blinked wearily at his partner.

“L-Lani?” he mumbled. “I can’t … wait. Don’t … I’m not…”

He shuddered and began sinking to his knees. Door grunted again and turned around, hooking her arms under his in a desperate attempt at helping him stay up.

“Geist?!” she gasped. “Geist, come on! Pull yourself together!”

With a blink, the lights in his eyes faded, and his gaze finally settled onto Door in a way that made it look like he was comprehending her presence at last.

“Door?” he asked softly.

He shook his head vigorously again and rose to his full height.

“I’m okay,” he said firmly. “Let’s go.”

Door furrowed her eyebrows at him. “A-are you sure? I can’t carry you, you know.”

He waved her off. “Positive. Alice, if you’d please.”

The musharna hummed and swung herself backwards, away from Geist at last. Thick, pink smoke billowed out of her back and quickly engulfed the room once more, swallowing the human Matrix agents still working on their downed Companions. Door felt Geist’s hand on her wrist, and a moment later, she found herself dashing alongside him, straight out of the building and into the late afternoon air. Blair and Wilbur were soon by their side with Alice smoothly gliding behind her trainer, and as soon as they passed the closest warehouse to Cold Storage, Opal joined them.

“Door!” Blair shouted. “Are you okay?! They didn’t touch you, did they?!”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Door replied with a smirk. “Surprised to see you here, though.”

“Geist came to get us at the market as soon as he realized he’d need backup,” Blair explained. “What happened in there?”

“A lot.” Door turned her attention to Geist. “I think we need to talk about it.”

“Planning on that,” Geist replied. “But for now, if you don’t mind, we have more pressing issues to worry about!”

The group skidded to a stop at the end of the service road, just feet from the chain link fence. Geist gazed up at it, as if calculating whether or not it could take his weight, but Door was distracted. To the side, the sirens were getting even louder, and she could see red and blue lights and shadows dancing along the walls of nearby warehouses. Someone was getting closer—a group of someones, in fact.

“Uh, Geist?” she began.

“I wasn’t kidding about the authorities,” he told her. “I’m unfortunately excellent at multitasking but terrible at estimating how long extracting a hostage would take. Now come on! Blair, recall Wilbur and Alice. Opal, prepare to climb over the fence. Let’s go!”

“None of you are going anywhere.”

All at once, the Companions, the pokémon, Blair, and Door froze. Each one of them turned in unison to see Terpsichore units blocking the road behind them, with more emerging from the alleys between warehouses. Among the Companions was a cluster of humans, mostly Driftveil police. One of them, however, was not.

This was the source of the voice. And Door was only slightly surprised to realize it was Roland Stone.

The head of Devon’s Unova branch eyed her suspiciously for a long while, then crossed his arms. His already disapproving frown only grew darker and deeper, and all of a sudden, she felt as if she wanted to melt into the pavement.

“In fact,” he said, “you’re all going to stay right here until one of you explains to me why you’re trespassing on Devon Corporation property.”

—

_> TERPSICHORE.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: [sighs] Project Galatea. Mass production notes. Day—geez. 150, I think._

_We got another request. Apparently, someone took notice of a Euterpe unit, and they thought Euterpe looked … intriguing. Functional, I guess. So, they put in a request for a batch of Companions, each with a heavy-duty chassis._

_[pause]_

_It was the military. Apparently, the Glorious State believes that our Companions would be both useful and practical if put to work on more political endeavors._

_Naturally, Zero-One has voiced his disapproval of this. His vehement disapproval. I shouldn’t be surprised that he dislikes the idea. Bill was a staunch and extremely stubborn pacifist, so it should stand to reason that Zero-One, well._

_In any case, it’s not his decision. It’s technically not mine, either, because that wasn’t so much a request as it was a strongly worded suggestion backed by money. Or a commission, in other words. One Halcyon has already accepted._

_I know. It sounds like I’m passing the blame, especially since I’m technically supposed to be running Halcyon Labs. I am Halcyon Labs at this point, as strange as that is to think about. But, when I make decisions as its head, I’m doing so out of the best interest in its core mission. You have to understand that, even if Zero-One doesn’t. I can’t turn down a government contract._

_Besides, it’s just the right thing to do. War is inevitable. We’ve engaged in it since the beginning of humanity, and although we’ve tried our hardest create world peace these past several decades, I know it’s only a matter of time before what we have ends. Zero-One wasn’t there when Teams Aqua and Magma summoned Kyogre and Groudon; I was. I know there are terrible people in this world who want to do horrifying things, and I know it’s not right to send other human beings out there to face the primordial forces themselves. I mean, gods above, Sapphire was eleven. What kind of people send an eleven-year-old out to battle the legendary pokémon?_

_So if we can create better, smarter soldiers, ones who can replace humans and pokémon on the battlefield, at least that will be one less child putting her life at risk, right?_

_Or that’s what I’m telling myself. Stay positive and all that. It’s not like I’m making a weapon._

_Zero-One didn’t agree. It was our first argument. I didn’t even think that was possible between us. Yet there I was. On the receiving end of his disgust._

_We’ll make up. I know that. He can’t stay angry with me forever; that’s not how he was built. But I can’t help but think … I could erase this memory from him. The LFA system allows me to do that if I wanted. Everything that makes him who he is, it’s all there in lines of code. I could go in and change or delete whatever I wanted to. It could be as if we never had that conversation. I could lie to him and tell him I had no choice. Or I could make him think he hadn’t missed anything at all._

_[pause]_

_But I won’t. I won’t because that would be crossing the line. I already … I’ve already done enough by agreeing to make these things for the State. I don’t need to…_

_[pause—LANETTE breathes in]_

_Heavy-duty chassis equipped with a Urania core configuration. Tests appear promising. Unit doesn’t express emotion or psychosomatic reactions. As the government wishes to perform its own testing regarding physical capabilities, all I need to do is have our factory manufacture enough to suit their initial needs._

_Its name is Terpsichore._

_[end recording]_


	32. Driftveil Pokémon Center

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door answers some questions and asks a whole lot more.

It took an explanation from Rosa Alvarado to convince Roland Stone that neither Door nor anyone else in her traveling party should be arrested, facing charges, or worse, brought to the headquarters of Devon Corporation’s Unova Branch. Instead, through some creative explanation involving the damage done to Geist’s left arm, Rosa managed to talk Roland into setting up a private conference room in Driftveil’s main pokémon center, and that was where Door and Blair sat across from the man and two Terpsichore bodyguards in complete silence while Geist and Opal were taken to the Companions’ charging and repair center.

Truth be told, Door wasn’t entirely sure if this arrangement was less painful alternative than being arrested, despite the fact that Rosa had reassured her no fewer than three times that it was. This uncertainty was largely due to the fact that had she been arrested, she would at least have the mercy of not being within Roland Stone’s line of sight.

In person, the heir of Devon Corporation was far more intimidating than his picture had led Door to believe. He wasn’t that much taller than Rosa, and his thin frame made Door think that if any of her future business dealings with him involved a full-on wrestling match, she would likely be able to take him. But it was the look he gave her that made her uneasy: the cold, hard, tough-as-iron look. Technically, his expression was neutral, but the way his steel-gray eyes were cut into his face, the way his cheekbones were sharp and angled just above his razor-thin mouth, and the way he folded his vice-strong hands one over the other on the table in front of him reminded Door of all the pictures she had ever seen of scalpels. This was a man of aggressive precision, from the way he styled his steel-gray hair (slicked down and tied back in a ponytail) to the way not a speck of dust lay on his sharp, black suit to the way he had been vivisecting Door with his eyes ever since they had sat down in the pokémon center’s uncomfortable excuse for chairs.

Needless to say, it had been only fifteen minutes into their uncomfortable silence, and Door was already poised to ask anyone who would listen without ripping her head off if sitting directly across an all-too-narrow meeting table from Roland Stone was _really_ the more preferable form of Hell on Earth to simply being arrested.

And then, at long last, after what felt like an eternity, Rosa walked in, holding a long, glass tablet. A hologram of Lady Magdalene holding onto a terrified Door was projected from its surface, and Door internally cringed at the fact that everyone could see what had not been her finest moment up close, from Geist’s perspective.

“Well, rest assured these girls aren’t part of Team Matrix,” Rosa said. “According to the video feeds, we can add ‘kidnapping’ to the list of that group’s charges … along with trespassing, breaking, and entering, of course.” She lowered her tablet and looked directly at Roland. “Sorry, Mr. Stone. We still haven’t located the group’s leader, and none of the members we’ve rounded up have shared that particular bit of information with us. All we know is they didn’t actually want anything; they simply wanted a place to talk with Miss Hornbeam in private. However, we should have the reports from our techs back shortly, and then we’ll know for certain whether or not their Companions captured anything of interest.”

Roland narrowed his eyes and tented his fingers in front of his mouth. “I doubt they would have. Cold Storage is merely a storage facility for ingredients. Everyone knows what Devon keeps there. The facility also runs on a separate system from the network my research and development team uses, so I doubt Team Matrix would have been able to glean any sort of information they might deem valuable. It’s the other warehouses I’m concerned about.”

“Well, according to our investigator units, nothing else was broken into,” Rosa said. She tapped a few options on her tablet to bring up a police comm link. “But I can easily arrange for all of your storage yard to be searched if you’d like. All I would need is your permission, sir.”

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you, Agent Alvarado.”

She tapped her tablet again to dispel the comm link. “Suit yourself. I’ll let you know if we find anything during the rest of our investigation.”

Roland shifted his glance to Door. “Thank you, officer. Your help is very reassuring.”

“Of course.” Rosa turned away from him and reached out to squeeze Door on the shoulder. “Good meeting you again, Miss Hornbeam. You okay?”

Door chuckled nervously. “I’m all right. Just a little shaken up.”

“Thought you would be,” Rosa said. “Listen, I’ll be around the center for the next couple of hours. When you’re done here, why don’t we sit down for some coffee? I’ll need to talk to you about what your Companion didn’t see and make sure you’ll be fine from here on out.”

“Uh … s-sure,” Door said as she rubbed the back of her neck. “That’d … that’d be great.”

Rosa gave her a quick nod before moving swiftly out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, the air turned ice-cold, and Roland’s stare grew darker. Swallowing hard, Door slowly turned her head back to the gym leader and waited through the next half a minute for Roland to speak.

“So,” he said. “You’re Doreen Hornbeam, daughter of Virginia Johnson and next-in-line for Halcyon Labs. I must admit I was quite surprised when I saw your name on my list of upcoming challengers. More so when I learned that you were causing trouble in my storage facility. May I ask what you think you’re doing in my town?”

“Uh…” Door leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting to the closed doorway in a helpless glance.

“She’s on a mission,” Blair said. Ignoring the glare Door immediately shot her, she continued, “Team Matrix is forcing her to undertake the same journey Hilda King went through in order to find one of the two legendary dragons so they can use them both to resurrect the dead.”

Roland quirked an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Blair Whitleigh, Professor Ironwood’s great niece. I’m not trying to earn your badge, by the way.”

Both eyebrows went up this time, and as he eyed Blair carefully, Roland replied, “I see. Well, Miss Hornbeam, I must say that if what your friend says is true, then you must be a _very_ interesting person.”

Door gave him a shaky, awkward, extremely brief grin. Part of her knew she was staring down the metaphorical barrel.

And sure enough, Roland leaned forward, placing his hands on the table in front of him. “But I regret to inform you that I only accept challenges from trainers who take their journeys seriously. So I’m going to ask you again. What are you doing in my town?”

Door cupped her chin with her hand, resting her elbow on the table. She wasn’t just doing this to look casual; it was also a handy position for hiding most of her face, including her terrified expression.

“She just told you,” she said, jerking her head towards Blair. “I’m on a mission.”

“I want to hear it from you, in your own words,” Roland replied. “Why. Are you in. My town?”

“I have to be,” Door said, rubbing her face. “I have to get your badge and keep going. They want to go after my Companion too, and it’s my duty to protect him. Besides…” She shifted in her seat, facing forward so she can look at Blair. “If I try to go home, they’ll try to make Blair summon the dragons instead. I can’t let that happen.”

Blair frowned. “So that’s why you said the Chosen will be either of us.”

Door nodded. “Look, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you out of this, but Team Matrix is dedicated. They’re not gonna stop until they get the dragons.”

Then, Door watched Blair’s reaction—the way the girl hesitated. Stared at her. Then shifted her gaze silently to the table. Across the way, she could see Roland’s fingers curl in, nestling under his palms.

“That’s nice,” he said, “but it’s not a good enough reason. So let me ask again, Miss Hornbeam. Why are you in my town?”

She slammed the table with a fist. “What do you want me to say?! I told you why I’m here!”

“Miss Hornbeam.” Roland rested his elbows on the table again and narrowed his eyes at her. “I can ask you the same question all day, but it seems you’re simply not getting it. So let me tell you this. A journey is about personal growth. It’s about self-exploration and the exploration of one’s own world. It is an act of leaving home in order to find your true purpose in the grander scheme of things. It is _not_ a quaint hero’s quest you undertake because you have a _duty_. Do you mean to tell me that the only reason why you’re here, asking for my badge, is because you feel you _have_ to be here? Because if you are, I will be thoroughly insulted by even the remote prospect of giving my badge out to a facsimile of a trainer who doesn’t even want it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Door spat. “People are in _danger_ , Stone.”

Blair jerked her head up. “Door! Respect!”

“No. Not to this asshole,” she replied. “The world’s in danger—people’s _lives_ are in danger—and this pretentious blowhard is sitting here telling me he’ll stop me from doing something about it, just because I care more about that than my ‘personal growth’?” Door waggled her hands in the air and lowered her voice at the last two words, as if to illustrate just how ridiculous she thought the prospect was through sheer body language.

“Let me ask you this, Miss Hornbeam,” Roland said severely. “If it was really just about saving the world, then why aren’t you out there, working with Agent Alvarado to locate the leader of Team Matrix? Why are you wasting your time with me—and, for that matter, my time in general?”

Door fell silent, her hands still poised in the air. As much as she really didn’t want to admit it … Roland had a point. Slowly, she lowered her hands as her face took on a grimmer expression.

Then, exhaling, she grimaced at the table. “All right. Fine. I’ll go all psychotherapy on you.” She scrunched her nose. “The truth is … I’m not a strong person. I’m not even that great of a person all around. It’s true I left Nuvema City because I felt like I had to; all of this started out as just a simple escort mission. But…” She relaxed and looked up, at Roland. “It’s not true that I never wanted to go on a journey at all. It’s just that journeys around here aren’t the same as they used to be. Everyone goes on the same routes, catches the same pokémon that are calibrated to the same basic levels, and struts on through the exact same motions at the same set of gyms, all because the whole Unova circuit is trying to do what Hilda and Rosa did fifty years ago. But they can’t, can they? It’s like … people are just being tourists. They’re visitors to the circuit, but it’s not a genuine experience. It’s just some dumb, glitzy tourist trap, like going to a recreation of a historical village, rather than the real thing. And no one cares. It’s just fun and games to everyone, none of the adventure you’re talking about.” She shook her head. “I know it sounds like I’m whining, but all I’m saying is I don’t want that. I want a real experience, not something that’s been decided for me.”

Roland sat back and crossed his arms. “Yet here you are. On a journey because someone forced you into it.”

Door propped her chin up with a hand and smirked. “Yeah. Pretty stupid, isn’t it?”

Taking a deep breath, Roland pinched the bridge of his nose, carefully pricking at it over the wire rim of his glasses. “Door. We may be future business rivals—Halcyon and Devon certainly are bitter ones now—but even I must admit that if it wasn’t for your family’s company, there would be no journeys at all. No gym circuit. No new trainers. Not even safe routes to allow for the regeneration of the Unovan wilderness. That’s not something that you should take lightly.”

“Heh. Don’t worry. I don’t,” Door said. “I might not like them, but that’s just personal preference. I know what I’m inheriting. I just…” She trailed off.

Roland looked over his glasses. “You want a bit of freedom.”

She shrugged.

With another slow exhale, Roland touched his chin and said, “I can understand that. I was in your position myself once upon a time. It’s not easy living up to the legacy of Steven Stone, and even now, Father Dearest felt it was best to relegate me to the Unova branch, rather than work within Hoenn.”

Door snorted. “Family, right?”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Roland frowned. “And perhaps not. You see, Door, I had plenty of time to reflect and grow during my stay in Unova, and I came to one important revelation: everyone is capable of self-determination. So tell me. What will you do once you find and stop Team Matrix?”

“What will I do?” Door asked. “What do you mean?”

He held a hand up, palm to the ceiling. “Well, surely, you want to do _something_. Everyone has a dream of one sort or another. Mine is to one day run the Hoenn branch. My father’s was to see the world before doing much of the same. The champion after him, Sapphire Birch, the legendary hero of Hoenn, eventually retired from her position to pursue an interest in the medical field. You see Rosa Alvarado living out her post-championship dream, and even Hilda King, the current champion, is working with the Unovan Peace Corps. When all is said and done, what will you be, Door Hornbeam? Your father’s daughter or something else?”

Door scrunched her mouth to the side of her face and bowed her head in thought. After a moment, she tossed her hair out of her eyes and locked gazes with Roland again.

“I want to retire too,” she said. “I want to work with Amanita to learn more about dream smoke and study real pokémon. Blair … I know you feel the same way, but there’s more to it than that. I want to find out what happened to the Entralink and prevent it elsewhere, and I want to learn about the natural world because it holds the key to everything. Like … to where we all came from and what it all means.” 

She shook her head. Her mouth twitched to the side for a second as she paused to study Roland’s face. He only watched her, waiting for her to continue.

And … she did. Not because he was waiting for her but instead because he was right. She didn’t _feel_ like she was finished.

“I can’t say my past differs that much from yours, but it wasn’t as great or glamorous as being raised by Steven Stone himself,” she said. “I was raised in Nuvema, away from Halcyon Labs and everything, because my mom wanted to keep me _away_ from all of that. But even then, my dad always taught me something that he learned from my grandma and great aunt. There’s a meaning for everyone, and everyone has the potential to do good in the world. I want to find out more about the way we humans interact with our environment so that, you know … maybe I can do something good too. Before I get dragged into Halcyon Labs, I guess.”

Roland sat back, but still, he didn’t say anything. He only tapped one finger on the table, but the expression he had on his face softened, like he was turning over Door’s words in his mind. Door took a deep breath. She was almost there. She knew this.

“Look … here’s the thing. Up until a few days ago, I thought Halcyon’s mission forgot all that—like, forgot about trying to figure things out and make them better. I thought fauxkémon and Companions and all that were only my family’s way of running away from a problem.” She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I mean, giving everyone fake pokémon and never bothering to figure out what happened to the real ones sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” 

She hesitated. Her smile vanished as she looked at her hands, still resting on the table, and her mind struggled to put her final words together.

“When I was a kid,” she said, “I never thought that much about it because I didn’t think the problem could ever be solved. But as I grew up, I realized that my grandma and my mom never tried at all, and … that just frustrated me, you know? So I began to think of fauxkémon as a band-aid, some kind of means to just make people feel better that pokémon don’t exist. But now I see that they _are_ a sort of band-aid, but just like a band-aid, they’re only supposed to be temporary. They’re here to help us deal with the pain long enough to keep going. It’s like … humans were never meant to live without pokémon. We’re supposed to coexist. But because they’ve disappeared from Unova, we need fauxkémon instead. Fauxkémon have a purpose too, and fauxkémon—like Scout and Boomer … they have the potential to have a positive impact on us. So I’ve been thinking lately … what about Companions? If fauxkémon are gonna help us see past the emptiness long enough to figure out how to fix our region, can we assume that Companions are here to help us too? Do they have some kinda purpose and potential to do good in the world? And if that’s the case, then…”

Door paused and looked up. She was about to apologize for rambling, but instead, she stopped the second she noticed one important difference to Roland’s face.

He was smirking at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Interesting,” he replied. “You want to be a researcher.”

“Yeah. I do,” Door told him.

“And you want to research our relationship with fauxkémon and Companions?” he asked.

Door hesitated again. She was about to correct him, to say she actually wanted to go into ecological research, but then she thought about everything she had just told him. About the purpose fauxkémon and Companions serve—not just in terms of their function as servants for humans but also their own, innate purposes and their own ability to impact the world at large.

And then, suddenly, it made sense to her. Everything.

“Huh,” she said. “I guess I do.”

Roland pressed his hands into the table and stood. “Well then, Door. I accept your challenge. First thing tomorrow morning, at the Driftveil Gym. I hope to see as much passion on the field as you’ve shown me just now.”

—

The following two hours were a blur to Door, one consisting of Roland leaving, a cup of coffee with Rosa, a hurried story about her journey thus far, and dinner in the pokémon center’s cafeteria with Blair. Rosa, surprisingly, didn’t say much of anything with regards to Team Matrix or Door’s involvement in it. She asked questions here and there about what happened while a Terpsichore unit sat recording Door’s every word, but the warmth that she had shown during their ride across the Skyarrow Bridge wasn’t present here. Door wondered if it was because they were in public or if it was because the police Companion was recording, but either way, other than a squeeze on the arm, a business card, and a quick “take care of yourself; things are heating up,” Rosa seemed oddly distant. Quiet.

Blair, meanwhile, was _unsurprisingly_ quiet. She knew Door had gone through a lot—after all, she ran halfway across the city to see for herself—so she tried her best to keep the conversation away from Team Matrix. Unfortunately, likely in an attempt to keep Door from getting nervous, she decided dodging the subject of the trainer’s upcoming gym battle as well, even when Door tried to bait her by calling Roland “an icy prick, but hey, one who made the afternoon interesting.” What this meant was that their conversation had been largely quiet too: just awkward, weary small talk over sandwiches that made Door realize how little she actually knew about Blair. The small talk, that is. Not the sandwiches.

And of course, when it came to chatting with an entity who could respond in perfectly understandable Common—which thus excluded Jack, Knives, or Door’s other pokémon—Opal was right out. She could converse, of course, but it wasn’t as if Door _wanted_ to resort to her. Door may have been curious about Companions now, but she wasn’t _that_ curious.

So needless to say, by the time Rosa had left the center and Blair and Opal had gone off to do research into half of everything Door had told Blair, Door was tired, confused, and in dire need of conversation with _anyone_ sensible.

She was not, therefore, at all prepared to walk into the Companions’ repair and recharge station to see her own lying shirtless in a pod.

Yet there she was, having walked halfway across the room only to notice this detail. She stopped, sucked in a breath, pointed to Geist, opened her mouth, and then turned right back around to face the exit.

“You know what? I think I’m gonna give my dad a call,” she said.

“It’s a pleasure to see you’ve fully recovered from today’s adventure,” Geist said dryly.

She faced him again, grimacing as she motioned at his condition. “Can I ask why…?”

Geist lowered his eyelids to half mast. “If you mean why I’m not currently dressed…”

He used his right hand to motion to his left. Everything from his shoulder down was encased in a hard, white, perfectly smooth shell. The shell was nondescript, past a latch and the small, red light blinking next to it.

“Unfortunately, although the caliber of bullet Belle had used seemed to be small enough to do a minimal amount of damage, _what_ it damaged was a bit more important,” he explained. “The bullet struck my synapse network. My entire arm needed to be rewired.” He flicked his hand in the air with a dramatic gesture. “So the technician needed to cut off my arm’s pseudodermal coat, repair my electrical circulation, replace my shoulder joint, and finish by reapplying a dermal compound.”

“And that explains…” Door motioned to him again.

Geist gave her a piercing look. “First, have you tried getting dermal compound out of cotton? Second, in case you’ve forgotten, my only change of clothes now has a nasty series of bullet holes straight through them. I’ve ordered replacements, but they’ll be arriving tomorrow morning, which, incidentally, is fine because _third_ , the amount of dermal compound required to cover my arm takes a full night to set.”

“Geez, sorry,” Door muttered. “Just … not used to seeing you like that. That’s all.”

His expression shifted into one of genuine concern. “Door … am I making you uncomfortable? For reasons other than the usual, I mean.”

“No!” Door rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean … no. I’m not … I don’t really … um.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t … like … guys?”

“And?”

Her face fell. “You already knew?”

Geist shrugged his good shoulder. “I had a feeling when you reacted the way you did to quite literally every human woman we’ve met except Belle, Melissa, Amanita, and your mother.”

“Wha—no! What are you talking about?! I don’t—” Door stopped that train of thought when she saw the knowing look on Geist’s face. So instead, she inhaled to calm herself. “Uh … sorry. No, you-you don’t make me uncomfortable. I mean, you’re not real. It’s just … knowing that you’re supposed to look like a guy who’s old enough to be my grandpa and was, I dunno, probably my uncle or something. It just caught me off guard.” She paused. “Also, I am really tired.”

Her Companion flashed her his signature smile and tried to sit up, only to be stopped by the shell. He grunted softly and pressed his good hand into it, then dropped his head back onto the pod in what looked to Door like frustration.

“Mind coming over here?” he asked. “Our relationship is fully platonic, and it’s difficult to focus on you when you’re that far away.”

With a nod, Door walked forward and gingerly sat on the edge of the pod, on Geist’s right side.

“So,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Door snorted. “You’re the one who got shot, and you’re asking me if I’m all right.”

“I told you, Door,” he replied. “For Companions, arms are easy to replace; users are not. You do know that Companions can’t feel pain, right?”

She peered at him. “You-you mean you didn’t feel anything?”

“Not a thing.” He shifted his gaze to the ceiling for a moment. “Well. Not physically, anyway. Emotionally, certainly. You scared me today, you know.”

“Companions can’t get scared, either,” Door said softly.

“Well. Then I was the next closest thing,” Geist told her. “Door, whether you want to believe it or not, you’re important to me. It’s not just because I, as a Companion, can’t do a thing without a human user. It’s because I’m obligated to help you.”

Door folded her hands in her lap. “Because of the Laws of Robotics?”

Geist hesitated, then shifted onto his back. He rested his right hand on his stomach and stared at the ceiling.

“I’d imagine you spoke with Rosa, as my records only contain half of your encounter with Team Matrix,” he said matter-of-factly. “I also imagine you spoke with Roland Stone, seeing as I’ve received a confirmation that your request to battle him has been accepted. No doubt Blair would have spoken to you already, and I know all about what happened before and after your adventure in Cold Storage. That leaves only one thing.” He closed his eyes. “What did she tell you?”

Door let the silence linger between them for a second. Then, slowly, she pulled the book Lady Magdalene had given her out of her hoodie’s front pocket and passed it to Geist.

“She … she gave me this. It’s supposed to be some kind of holy book for whatever cult Team Matrix is part of,” she told him.

Geist’s eyes flashed as he scanned it. Then, he handed the book back to Door.

“The Manifesto of the Electric Dream,” he stated. “Core book of the Children of the Electric Dream, a new religious movement founded in Kalos. There are scans of the full book online. I’ll find a set and look through it later tonight.”

“So who are they?” Door asked.

“The Children?” Geist frowned. “As I’ve said, they’re a new religious movement. They only came to light about five years ago thanks to an apparently more aggressive campaign to recruit followers in Lumiose City. From what I understand, they believe in a purpose for all living things, that Companions and fauxkémon are essentially artificial life, and that it’s imperative to work alongside them as equals in order to achieve world peace and harmony. Essentially, they’re Team Matrix, only far, far less hostile … and less inclined towards criminal activity, for that matter. Representatives of the Children refer to Team Matrix as an extremist group that don’t necessarily reflect their overall views, even though they’ve also acknowledged that their founder—otherwise known as our mutual friend, Oppenheimer—is co-leader of Team Matrix. The church’s other leader is his personal Companion Lady Magdalene, although given current laws and societal viewpoints with regards to Companions, calling her a co-leader is understandably a debate.”

Door craned her neck a little as she gazed at her Companion with narrow eyes. “How long have you known about all that?”

“Three seconds,” Geist responded. He tapped his temple. “Don’t forget, Door. Companions are designed to call up and recite information from the internet instantaneously. It’s one of our most advertised features.”

“Oh. Right.” Door relaxed. “So … what about the Electric Messiah? Does the internet say anything about him?”

Geist paused for a second, his eyes flashing. Door couldn’t help but notice that his hesitation was a bit longer than the one that ensued after he had scanned the book, but before she could say anything, he lifted his head again.

“Although Oppenheimer and Lady Magdalene are founders and leaders of both the Children and Team Matrix, the followers of both groups are in universal agreement that there is an individual higher than them. This person is called the Electric Messiah,” Geist explained. “There’s not much information on him, I’m afraid. All I can find is that he was the source of the Children’s core philosophies and that they believe he will one day be present in our world again to usher in a golden age. Think of him like Jesus in the Book of Revelations or the aliens of Raelism or—”

“He’s Bill McKenzie,” Door said bluntly.

Geist stopped. He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips for a moment. Then, he lifted his eyes as the blue light behind them flickered again.

“Huh,” he said. “That explains a lot.”

Door jumped. “How could you be so—”

She cut herself off to groan. Of course Geist would be calm about what in her mind would be a jaw-dropping revelation. She kicked herself for failing to be used to that by now.

Shaking her head, she tried again. “Never mind. Look, can you do a search on him? Maybe something in there can help us figure out who Oppenheimer really is. Or, y’know, maybe there’s something that’ll give us a hint as to what Team Matrix thinks he’ll do once they bring him back to life.”

“I’ve already started. And, for that matter, I’ve already found quite a few hits,” Geist told her. He touched his temple and cocked his head. “Let’s see … William Alan ‘Bill’ McKenzie, December 31, 1981, to July 16, 2006, was a pokémon researcher, inventor, and philanthropist. In 1996, he developed his best-known invention, the Pokémon Storage System, with the help of fellow researcher and inventor, Lanette Hamilton. Four years later, he and Hamilton co-founded Halcyon Laboratories, which would become a major name in pokémon technology after his death.”

“I don’t care about that,” Door said. “Who did he know? Was one of them Oppenheimer?”

Geist gave her an awkward grin. “Ah, I’m afraid that this may take more time to discern, Door. According to this article, Bill was an active member of the Pokémon Symposium, the Pokémon Association, and the general pokémon and scientific communities during his life. I’m even finding links to archived images of fan communities devoted to him, some of which had hundreds of members before forums went the way of Usenet. Oppenheimer could be anyone from his close colleagues to one of these fans; I won’t know until I can sift through this information for clues.”

Door exhaled. “Jesus. Fine. Take all the time you need, if it’ll help. What about his projects? What was his last one? You know—the one that killed him?”

Geist’s look hardened. “Well … accounts of Bill’s death are notoriously … bizarre. Supposedly, he was doing a followup to previous experiments centering on digital teleportation, but no one is quite sure _what_ the project was about.”

“What do you mean? You just said he was working on digital teleportation,” Door pointed out.

“Broadly speaking, yes,” Geist responded. “But why? And what was he doing? No one ever really knew what the goal of his experiments specifically was. Sure, teleportation is an integral part of the storage system, but accounts from his colleagues at the time imply that he wanted to do … something else with it.”

“Something else?” Door asked.

Geist shrugged his good shoulder again. “Your guess is unfortunately as good as mine. It’s been fifty years, and that’s the one part of the whole ordeal no one has been able to definitively explain. That and how he could have managed to kill himself using his own teleporter. We know how teleportation devices work, and they don’t work like that.”

“Damn it.”

Door massaged her temples. She realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. There was just too much to go through, and she didn’t have that much time, even with three other people helping her. There had to be a shortcut. Some way of sifting through and pinpointing the most likely possibilities. But unless she knew who to ask…

“Wait.”

Door pulled her hands away from her head and blinked. Of course! It was so obvious—literally sitting right next to her!

“Geist,” she said urgently, twisting around in her seat to face him. “What do you think?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “About?”

“About … I don’t know. All of this.” She leaned towards him. “You have his personality, Geist! If anyone who’s still around today can know what that guy was thinking, it’s you!”

“Door…” Geist sighed. “Just because my personality was based on his doesn’t mean I have any idea what was going through his head when he died. Remember, I was _based on him_. I was created by his partner to be a close approximation to _her memory of who he was_. Besides, without encyclopedic knowledge of his work or his most intimate memories, my guess will quite literally be as good as yours.”

Her shoulders sank. “But … can’t you just guess anyway or something? She had to know him well enough when she made you.”

He closed his eyes and settled back into the pod. For a long while, he lay there, unmoving, until a full minute passed. Door sighed and bowed her head again.

“You literally have no idea, do you?” she asked quietly.

“I’m sorry, Door. I’m trying, but…”

“No, it’s okay. I just…” She looked at him. “You heard what Lady Magdalene said, right? Just before she let me go?”

He opened his eyes and angled his head towards her. “Yes. And I understand why you feel figuring this all out is urgent. But things like this take time. There are a lot of elements we still don’t know, even though the people who were closest to Bill had fifty years to figure everything out. However…” He cracked a smile. “You _do_ have two Companions and a very intelligent researcher-to-be on your side. Let us handle this. Focus on getting strong enough to fight Team Matrix, all right?”

She responded with an uncertain smirk. “What if you guys don’t figure it out?”

“Then by that point, you should be strong enough to take on Lady Magdalene and Oppenheimer.” Geist’s grin widened. “I must admit, as reckless as you were today, that triple battle was most impressive. I know you lost Boomer to it, but … the fact that the others came out of it largely unscathed is a difficult thing to achieve.”

Door snorted again, her head bobbing back and forth as her breath bubbled out. At the sight of her smile, Geist reached out and squeezed her arm.

“So. Are you all right, all things considered?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Even if … you know. A lot happened today.” Her smile faded slightly. “But what about you?”

“I already told you, Door. I’ll be fine.”

Door pressed an elbow into her thigh and propped her chin on her hand. Leaning into it, she stared straight ahead, at the other, mostly occupied pods around the room.

“No, I mean … you were acting weird just before Belle and Starr took off with Magdalene,” she said.

He tilted his head again. “Weird how?”

“You went all … mechanical,” she said slowly. “You said something about a defense system.”

Geist frowned. “Well … I’m not entirely certain myself, but it might have been my built-in defense mechanism. All Companions have that, you know. It’s an anti-hacking measure.”

“I know,” Door said, “but it doesn’t work that way.”

“What way?”

She huffed. “It’s hard to explain without showing you. I don’t get what you did, but whatever it was, it hurt Magdalene and a lot of other Companions there.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “Do you remember anything from the time Magdalene let me go to the time we ran out of Cold Storage? Or … do you have logs?”

He shook his head. “No … I don’t remember anything. I-I think I entered a sleep state. Hold on.”

Geist cocked his head—actually cocked it, in that he jerked his head to the side. His eyes flashed quickly, and his mouth opened slightly. Door felt her heart shudder at the sight. She couldn’t help but remember what he looked like in Cold Storage, how unresponsive he was, how … inhuman.

But just as quickly as it happened, it passed, and Geist—albeit still with glowing eyes—relaxed and faced her.

“Odd,” he said. “It seems that she broke into the LFA core. That’s what triggered the defense system you were talking about. Evidently, it has its own defense mechanism—a powerful one, at that.”

“What … what was she doing in there?” Door asked.

“Not much,” Geist replied. “The defense system kicked her out before she could do any harm to it. I doubt she could even see that many files, if there’s anything in there to begin with. Apparently, all she was doing was setting up a transfer script.”

Door stiffened. “A transfer script? Was she … was she trying to steal files from you?”

“Not _from_ me,” he said. He reached up to rub his right temple. “That’s what’s odd about it. It wasn’t set to transfer files into her; it was set to transfer files into my memory core. The defense system cut it off before it could fully execute, but it succeeded in transferring a single file. Magdalene left without even copying it to her drives.”

“That _is_ weird,” Door muttered. “What’d she transfer?”

Geist shifted his hand to his side and fixed his eyes on Door. “It’s a video file. I don’t think I’d be able to load it with only one pad, though.”

“Can you play its audio track?” Door asked.

After a second’s hesitation, Geist flicked his wrist and opened up the pad on his palm. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Door nodded, then laced her fingers together and propped her chin on her thumbs. “Okay. Then do it.”

The next thing she heard was a hissing sound, followed by a crash, both emanating from the softly glowing pad in her Companion’s palm. It took her a second to identify what she was listening to: waves on a beach. She remembered that sound from when she was a small child, back when her family lived in Hoenn. The memory of bright sunlight and warm sand washed over her with every subsequent crash of the waves, and with that feeling came a distant sense of nostalgia, a vague warmth ebbing somewhere between her heart and her stomach. For once, she felt safe.

Not long after that feeling settled in, the calm was broken by a voice.

“What are you doing?”

A woman’s. Soft and curious—not offended. It sounded familiar somehow, but Door couldn’t place it.

The woman laughed. “What—are you recording me?”

“Would you be offended if I said yes?”

The second voice was Geist’s. That Door realized immediately. But somehow, he sounded different. More relaxed. Playful.

“Why?” the woman asked.

“I can’t help it,” the past Geist replied. “You look so beautiful against the sunset. I want to make sure I remember this.”

The woman laughed again. “Oh, stop!”

“What, am I embarrassing you?”

“No! Hey!”

The next few seconds were a whirlwind of confusion, largely because Door couldn’t see what was going on. She could hear the woman shrieking and laughing, intermingled with a shout here and there from Geist. The sounds of fabric and wind whipped through their voices as the crashing of the waves grew closer and further and closer again. After several moments, the chase seemed to stop, and the woman gasped for breath close to Geist.

Another half a minute passed, and the woman’s breath slowed, calmed, ebbed out of the recording until it was only a low rhythm in the background.

That was when Geist’s past self spoke again.

“I don’t want this to end,” he said. “Is that wrong?”

“Mm. No,” his partner replied. “No. Not at all.”

A few more seconds elapsed before another low sound rolled into the recording. It was soft and sweet and _familiar_.

The woman hummed. But she wasn’t humming just any song. It was the one Starr had sung to Geist on the Driftveil Drawbridge. Shortly into it, Geist’s past self joined her, and together, their voices intertwined, fitting perfectly with one another until, at last, the song—and the recording—ended.

Door and Geist—the present Geist—sat in silence for a few seconds. Then, at last, Door took a deep breath.

“That was Aunt Lanette, wasn’t it?” Door asked.

There was no response. The warm, nostalgic feeling in Door’s chest was quickly flooded out with cold, hard dread.

“Geist?” she asked.

She twisted around to face him once more, and when she did, she was surprised by what she saw.

Geist was fine physically. He was lucid, and judging by how he rested his head back on the pod and let the light behind his eyes fade, he hadn’t retreated at all into himself. Not like he had when Starr sang that song to him.

No, what shocked Door was his expression. How human it was. How real. How distant.

How _sad_.

“Geist,” Door said quietly. “Do you remember her?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t. I’m sure of that. Yet … hearing her voice…”

“Yeah…?”

He shifted his gaze to her, and for a moment, Door forgot she was looking at an android.

“It hurts,” he finished.

—

_> TESTM6.txt_  
_> Author: Lanette Hamilton_  
_> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Bebe Larson._

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, Subproject Eighth Muse, test six._

_[distortion—sound of the microphone being placed on another object]_

_LANETTE: [at a distance] Okay. Zero-Eight, please confirm audio functionality._

_ZERO-EIGHT: Input component: no errors. Output component: no errors. All audio systems are functional._

_LANETTE: Good. Please confirm visual functionality._

_ZERO-EIGHT: Input component: no errors. All visual systems are functional._

_LANETTE: Excellent._

_[background noise: computer keyboard in use]_

_LANETTE: In a moment, I’ll be activating the LFA system. When it boots, I want you to hum this tune._

_[an instrumental rendition of “DAISY BELL” plays]_

_LANETTE: Please confirm that you understand this command._

_ZERO-EIGHT: Processing. Wait for confirmation from LFA core and repeat song as noted. Understood._

_LANETTE: Good. Here we go, Zero-Eight. LFA activation in 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1. LFA activation initiated._

_[background noise: forceful keystroke]_

_ZERO-EIGHT: [low hum for a period of thirty seconds, followed by the first few bars of “DAISY BELL”]_

_LANETTE: Yes, that’s right. Keep going._

_ZERO-EIGHT: [next few bars, followed by a distortion]_

_LANETTE: That’s okay, Zero-Eight. Keep going._

_[Keyboard in use. ZERO-EIGHT continues humming. Distortions interrupt audio playback; vocals become corrupted. ZERO-EIGHT ceases humming and begins screaming.]_

_LANETTE: Wait! No! Hold on! Come on!_

_[Screaming from ZERO-EIGHT shortened to intermittent two-second bursts, followed by white noise. LANETTE screams.]_

_LANETTE: Gods above. Stop that! Eight! Administrator override alpha!_

_[Screaming from ZERO-EIGHT continues. Background noise: metal grinding.]_

_LANETTE: I said administrator override alpha! Why aren’t you responding?!_

_[Screaming from ZERO-EIGHT continues. Metal grinding continues.]_

_LANETTE: Administrator override alpha! No … no! Stay back! Stay away from me!_

_[Silence, followed by a bang.]_

_ZERO-EIGHT: La Fata Azzurra System override. Authorization code Alpha Zero-One. Please stand by for incoming message._

_[background noise: LANETTE breathes]_

_ZERO-EIGHT: Lanette, what the hell are you doing?_

_[background noise: bang—close proximity to the microphone]_

_[end recording]_


	33. Driftveil Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see what Door is made of.

Apparently, Driftveil Gym was set into the side of a mountain. Its sign was hung neatly—as Door would have expected from Roland Stone—on the rocky face of a cliff on the northern end of town. The surrounding neighborhood was even neat and orderly, consisting largely of clean, glass-walled apartment buildings for Devon employees and a handful of upscale shops and similar points of interest for trainers with money. That didn’t surprise Door either.

No, what surprised Door was the fact that the entrance was so small, humble, and for all intents and purposes, more like the entry to a bunker than a sleek and stylish Devon facility. Or, for that matter, more like the entry to a bomb shelter and less like the rest of the neighborhood.

“Um,” she said. “Geist, are you sure we’re in the right place?”

Geist—who was now dressed in a cleanly pressed shirt and a red vest, courtesy apparently of Amanita’s wallet—closed his hand and thus the map he had been projecting from his palm.

“Positive,” he replied.

“Driftveil Gym’s located in the old Clay Tunnel,” Blair added. She snorted. “C’mon, Door. Everyone knows that.”

“Y-yeah. Of course!” Door put her hands on her hips and did her best to not let Blair see her blush of embarrassment. She did not, in fact, know that the current Driftveil Gym was housed in the old Clay Tunnel. “I’m just surprised it’s not dressed up, yanno? I mean, c’mon. Devon’s known for sleekness and whatever, right? Shoving the gym in the old tunnel just seems … messy.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” Blair replied, her voice dropping to a low and defeated mumble.

“On the other hand, it’s a brilliant use of space, something Devon is _also_ known for,” Geist said. “After all, once the safe zone system was established, no one went through Clay Tunnel anymore. Rather than let it simply rot or become a den for local gangs like our friend the Heartbreaker’s, Mr. Stone bought it upon his appointment as Driftveil’s gym leader and refurbished it for his purposes.”

“Along with the rest of the neighborhood,” Door muttered, glaring over her shoulder at the heavily gentrified street.

“Yes, actually. You could say that Roland—” 

“Geist, if you say ‘left no stone unturned,’ I swear to God—”

“—is a thorough man,” Geist finished as he shot a wry grin towards his user. He pressed his hand to the door but paused, his face falling. “Door, there’s something important you need to know before we go in.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Door asked.

“I can only give you advice when you ask me specific questions. I won’t be able to shout out whenever I feel like it as I had in previous matches. Understood?”

“Huh? Why not?”

“So far, you’ve only faced gym leaders who either knew about me or didn’t particularly mind,” he told her. “You know as well as I do that normal Companions can’t simply offer advice whenever we want. We are always analyzing our users’ battles, but our user needs to specifically consult us when they wish to know something. That’s why one of the standard rules is that we can’t interfere with the battle. It doesn’t mean we can’t interfere of our own free will; it means you can’t use anything but our help function.”

Door blinked. “Oh. So what are you saying?”

He pressed against the door—not enough to push it open but enough to make it click. “Roland Stone is with Devon Corporation, Halcyon’s main competitor, and he’s too new to the League to have had any direct dealings with Dr. Fennel, which means he doesn’t know about me or what I can do. I’d imagine you wouldn’t want to reveal a Companion as advanced as I am to someone who would be very interested in creating a successful knock-off.”

“I guess so,” Door said. “So what do I do if I need your help?”

“I got this, Geist,” Blair said. “Look, Door. It’s super-easy. You go like this.” She whirled around to face Opal. “Hey, Opal! I need to know what types palpitoad are weak and resistant to, STAT!”

Opal responded with a salute. “You got it, Blair!” Her head dropped, and her eyes lit up. “Scanning … scanning … got it!” She lifted her chin to level her gaze with Blair’s again. “Palpitoad is extremely weak against the grass type, but it resists fire, poison, rock, and steel. It takes no damage from electric, and all other types inflict normal damage.”

“Okay. Thanks, Opal!” Blair took a bow, swinging her arm towards Opal as she did. “See? It’s that simple.”

Door nodded slowly, then tilted her head towards Geist. “Yeah, um.”

“Yes, Door, I’ll make it sound more human than that.” He glared at her as he shoved open the door. “Although, honestly, you really should be a little nicer to Opal. She’s standing right there, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll work on that.” Door waved a hand in the air as she brushed past Geist.

He rolled his eyes and motioned for Blair to follow, and thus, the group entered the foyer of the Driftveil Gym.

Or, rather, what was a close approximation to a foyer.

It was a room, no larger than a bedroom, lined completely in steel. An uncomfortable-looking set of chairs, the only pieces of furniture the space had, were clustered in a corner, old and sad and covered in dust. At the far end of the room were two sets of doors: one marked “FIRE EXIT” and the other clearly a set of elevator doors. A thin, blond, long-faced Companion, dressed in a sleek, black suit, stood next to the elevator doors with his hands clasped behind his back. Geist grasped Door’s elbow and escorted her forward, approaching this Companion. The Companion’s violet eyes slid open, and he stared at the two with a long, judging expression.

“Please present your identification,” he intoned.

Geist lifted both of his hands, allowing his pads to snap open, and in return, the other Companion slid his hands into the open and lined his palms up with Geist’s. Door stood by, watching as she bit her lip in concern. This, she realized, was the first time Geist would be using his new left arm, and part of her felt a slight pang of worry that it wouldn’t work, combined with preemptive guilt on the off-chance that it didn’t.

But, much to her relief, the left pad glowed just as brightly as the right, and the beam that emitted from it was just as strong. The two Companions stood there for a moment until the Driftveil Gym’s lowered his hands. Geist snapped his pads shut but kept his hands in front of him.

“Record found,” the gym Companion said. He moved his head with jerking movements towards Door. “Are you Door Hornbeam of Nuvema City?”

“Yeah. And this is my Companion, Geist,” she said. Then, pointing behind her, she added, “Oh, and these are my guests. They can come too, right?”

“Up to three guests are permitted in the elevator, yes.” The Companion touched his temple, and the elevator doors behind him opened silently. “Please come with me. Gym Leader Roland has been waiting for you.”

“Right.” She glanced at Geist with uncertainty. “Well—oh wait. Hold on a sec.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a poké ball. As quickly as she could, she expanded it and cracked it open in her hand, releasing a blob of white light into the space before her. In seconds, Red materialized, humming quietly and curiously to his trainer.

“Red, this is Blair and Opal. You remember them, right?” she asked, motioning to the others.

The yamask shifted his eyes to the human and Companion next to him, then bobbed in as close an approximation to a nod as his species could get.

“Great,” Door said. “Stay close to them and watch, just like last time, okay?”

With another bobbing nod, the yamask glided to Blair and circled around her head. Blair flinched, dodging the ghost’s movements as she gave Door a curious look.

“Um … why?” she asked, pointing a finger at the pokémon.

“Long story short,” Door replied as she folded her hands behind her head, “Red’s real too. But I got him long after Jack and Knives, so I haven’t really had time to train him. I’m hoping just watching will give him enough of an idea of how battling works.”

Blair’s expression of confusion only intensified as she shifted her glance from Red to Door. “Well … if you say so. But—”

Door waved her off and huffed. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this over with.”

And with that, Door stepped into the elevator with a tense stride, followed by Geist, the gym Companion, and finally Blair, Red, and Opal. As the elevator shut and began its smooth descent, Door took a deep breath and wormed her way to the front. A hand clasped her shoulder, and she looked over to see Blair give her a small grin. The girl mouthed “don’t be nervous” to her, and all of a sudden, Door felt herself relax. It was strange; just a few days ago, Door had been arguing with this girl over the fact that she had stuck her nose into other people’s business. Now she was relieved Blair had done that. Sure, they didn’t have much time to chat since leaving Nimbasa, but having another human by her side—having someone who was calm and rational and stable but not in the aggravatingly unwavering way Geist was—made her feel a little less alone on this whole journey.

So, as she smirked right back, Door almost felt _excited_ for her upcoming match with Roland Stone.

But then, the elevator reached its destination, the wall behind Door parted, and she turned around to face her doom.

Beyond elevator’s rear doors, there was a cavernous space lit with mine lighting. To call the place huge wouldn’t do it justice: it was far larger than any other gym Door had seen, including in video records of the past champions’ exploits. Colosseum-style rows sloped up the walls, forming an edge around a clean, dirt-covered gym floor. What was more jarring, however, was the fact that every row was _packed_. Seemingly everyone in Driftveil City had turned up to fill them, and their cheers formed a wave of noise that washed over Door. Taking up the back wall was a screen, much like the one in the Nimbasa gym, and on it, the image of a narrow, brown badge slowly rotated on a field of brilliant, gold sparks. As soon as Door stepped out of the elevator, the image on the screen dissolved into a close-up of Roland’s profile. Gazing down at the field, she could see the image’s source: a gym Companion identical to her escort, standing next to and facing Roland Stone. They were both waiting for her at the exact center of the field.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Devon Corp’s Driftveil Gym, we thank you for your patience!” an announcer boomed. “Please welcome to the arena today’s challenger: hailing all the way from Nuvema City, the elusive heiress of Halcyon Labs, Door Hornbeam!”

As a spotlight banged on overhead, Door nearly choked on her spit.

“W-what the hell?!” she gasped. “They’re not supposed to … I mean, I’m not…”

The gym Companion placed a hand on Door’s back and guided her through an open gate to a metal platform lined with a railing. Geist followed, but the escort Companion held up a hand to stop Blair, Red, and Opal.

“Challengers’ guests must remain in the reserved seating at the edge of the battlefield. Please step onto the platform to your left to access guest seating,” he said.

Door whirled around and tried to step off the platform, but she was blocked by the closing of its gate.

“W-wait!” she stammered. “Hold on! Blair! I can’t—”

Blair rested her hand on Door’s shoulder and cocked her head. “Relax, Door. You’ll be fine. It’s just like any other battle, okay?”

She pulled her hand up, gave Door a small salute, and sauntered onto the platform. Opal and Red glided after her, and as soon as Blair closed the gate behind them, the platform began to descend. Blair waved to Door one last time before vanishing to the floor below.

Door groaned quietly and turned back to the field. Her eyes flicked from one side to the other, taking in the full extent of the crowd watching her. She swallowed hard and felt the bottom of her stomach drop out—and not just because the platform began to move. Her heart was beating quickly, and as she shoved her hands into her pockets, her fingers fidgeted with her poké balls nervously.

A hand grasped her elbow lightly, and she looked at Geist. His eyes weren’t on her—rather, they were locked ahead—but he still smiled and nudged her with his hand reassuringly. He didn’t have to say a word; Door knew what he was trying to say. And although it wasn’t as comforting as Blair’s general presence with its utter humanness, at least Geist was _someone_. So, she took a deep breath and tried her best not to think about the crowds.

The breath didn’t dissipate her fears completely, but at the very least, she didn’t feel quite as sick as the platform docked. And slowly, she made her way off the platform and started towards Roland.

When she was finally within arm’s reach of him, he eyed her critically.

“Hello, Miss Hornbeam,” he said. “Strange to see you so nervous. Have you lost that confidence you showed me yesterday evening?”

“N-no,” Door stammered as she reached back to rub her neck as usual. “It’s just … there’re a lot of people here. And did you really have to tell them I’m the heiress of Halcyon or something? I really don’t think of myself as that.”

Roland smirked. “Miss Hornbeam, while I could very well funnel money into my gym, I much prefer allowing it to generate its own revenue through ticket sales and recording subscriptions.” He pressed his hands together, pointing his fingertips downward. “Needless to say, advertising our bout as the match of the century between Devon Corp and Halcyon Labs, rather than as an ordinary gym leader versus an up-and-coming trainer, is far more … lucrative. Wouldn’t you say?”

“I’d say it makes you hella shady,” Door grumbled.

Roland narrowed his eyes at her, but his smirk didn’t disappear. “Quite. In any case, Miss Hornbeam, it makes things _interesting_ for me. Now, if we’re done worrying about inconsequential things, Mica, the rules, please.”

Door’s escort stepped forward to line himself up with Roland. He turned on his heel—hands behind his back, steel-blue eyes on Door—and began.

“This will be a standard gym match,” he said. “Single battle, switch style, no time limit. Gym Leader Roland will be limiting himself to only three pokémon; however, you may use as many as you wish. Fauxkémon are permitted, as are items and guidance from Companions. Exiting the boundary of the arena will count as a TKO. Do you understand and accept these rules?”

For the umpteenth time that day, Door took a deep breath. “Y-yeah. Sounds good to me.”

“Good,” Mica responded. “Challenger Door. Gym Leader Roland. Please shake hands and take your places on the battlefield.”

Roland extended his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Door took it. They said nothing between them, not even a wish for good luck, as they gripped each other’s hands tightly. Then, just as quickly as the gesture happened, the two trainers turned away from each other and walked to opposite sides of the field. Geist followed Door closely, keeping his eyes steady on the end of the battlefield as he whispered to Door.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“The crowd’s a bit much,” she admitted.

“You’ll be fine,” he replied quickly. “Just remember that I’m here for you, and so are your pokémon. Drown everything else out and focus on the battlefield.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered.

She stopped at the trainer’s box, but Geist continued onward, stepping onto the narrow margin between the far border of the field and the dock for the metal platform. Spinning on his heel—much like Mica had—he gave Door a quick, curt nod, silently urging her to face the battlefield.

And with a deep breath, she did. The gym Companions took their last steps off either side of the field, giving Door a clear view of her opponent.

“As per Driftveil Gym tradition, the challenger will be granted the first move,” Mica’s twin announced. “Door Hornbeam of Nuvema City, please send out your first pokémon.”

Finally, after spending the past several minutes fidgeting with it in her pocket, Door pulled out Jack’s poké ball and pointed it to the space before her. “Well. Let’s get this over with. Jack, scalchops out!”

Jack burst from the ball and hit the ground in front of his trainer, and the moment he did, he scanned the arena quickly. Rising to his hind paws, he strode forward to the middle of the field, with his head slightly bowed, his beady eyes fixed on Roland’s side, and his paws deftly unsheathing both scalchops in one fluid movement.

Across the way, Roland smirked and pulled a poké ball from the pocket of his blazer. “Playing it safe with a type advantage. I must admit, that’s rather disappointing, Miss Hornbeam. Tooth! Open with Crunch!”

It didn’t take long for the all-too familiar form of a sand-colored crocodile to appear on the field. Nor did it take long after that for said crocodile to shoot across the field, jaws wide open and fangs flashing with a deep, ominous, purple glow. Jack yelped and held his scalchops up, crossing them in front of him to block Roland’s krokorok, but the gym pokémon was faster, larger, and heavier than the one the Heartbreaker had trained. Because of that, Roland’s krokorok clamped its jaws down on Jack’s scalchops, lifted the dewott, and threw him across the field—sans scalchops. As soon as Jack landed with a bang, the krokorok spit his scalchops out, letting them land with a clatter at its own feet. Jack groaned and pushed himself to his knees, then whined as soon as he realized he was completely unarmed.

The crowd went wild for that single move. Door felt herself shake at the sound of all their voices. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they sounded angry—like they were begging Roland’s krokorok to rip Jack apart. Tooth moved slowly in response, shifting itself around until it faced Jack completely. Door could just barely hear its animalistic growl underneath the frenzied chanting of the crowd. Jack scrambled to his feet and inched backwards, his eyes darting from his fallen scalchops—now behind the krokorok—to his slowly advancing opponent to his silent and blanching trainer.

Door knew her pokémon was in trouble. She also knew it was her turn to execute an attack. But her head felt like it was freezing up. It wasn’t this bad in Nimbasa. She could ignore the crowds and focus completely on Elesa, even before her projections went up. Why, though? Why was this different?

The crowds. Were they larger this time around? Door’s eyes darted up to the spectators. She couldn’t count how many there were, but she was sure there were more than that. But that wasn’t just it, was it? No one knew who she was in the Nimbasa battle. The lights and heat concealed the spectators. And most importantly, Elesa, deep down, believed in her too.

But Roland? Roland was judging her, even now. His steel-cold eyes were fixed on her, watching her non-movement, analyzing not only what she was now but what she would be ten years from now, after she would inevitably take her place within the topmost ranks of his rival company. No, he was right. This wasn’t like the Nimbasa gym battle or any other battle before it. This wasn’t a gym leader versus a trainer. This was Devon versus Halcyon, the Stones versus the Hamiltons, expectation versus expectation. These crowds weren’t there to watch a battle. They were there to watch Door, the sheltered, privileged heiress of a multibillion-dollar company, get utterly crushed under the heel of someone far more competent and deserving of a title than she was.

This, she realized, was atrocity tourism.

Roland said something, but Door couldn’t make it out. His krokorok could, and so, it moved. It raised one of its clawed feet and slammed it back down into the earthy floor. Cracks laced across the field as the ground buckled. With a great bang, the earth itself first tossed Jack into the air, then swallowed his legs, all while the otter shrieked like nothing else Door had ever heard. And when the earth settled, Jack screamed and scrambled, his front paws clawing desperately at the floor in front of him. After a delay, one of his back paws joined them, but the other remained planted in the earth. With its prey helpless, the krokorok fell to all fours, hissed, and began crawling towards Jack.

And the crowd ate it up. They were deafening. Distracting. Disorienting. Door couldn’t think straight. She felt her head swim and saw her vision blur. Her heart pounded harder, and her stomach turned, and she was sure she would be sick all over the gym floor.

When she found it difficult to breathe, she finally turned to her Companion.

“Geist!” she cried out. “H-help! I-I need…” What did she even need? “I-I don’t know—type matchups—um…”

His eyes lit up, and he bowed his head for a split second. When he lifted it again, his voice spoke calmly and evenly, much like every other Calliope unit Door had ever encountered.

“Search complete,” he said. “Results for ‘relaxation techniques’—”

Door shook her head. “N-no, that’s not…”

“Top hit,” he continued. “Step one: close your eyes and clear your thoughts. Think of nothing else but this moment. Nothing else matters. Let your worries drift away.”

“Geist,” Door whimpered.

“Miss Hornbeam,” Roland called. “I do believe you’re engaged in a gym battle in the other direction. Your next move, please.”

As if he didn’t hear either of them, Geist cocked his head and continued. “Step two: take a deep breath. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.” His hand rose, up his chest and then down again in a steady, slow movement. Like water. “In … and out.”

Door almost felt herself cry. Why was he doing this? What was he trying to tell her?

“Nothing else matters,” he said. “There is no need to worry. There is no need to panic.”

Panic. Like some kind of trigger, Door felt a memory come back to her. On the streets of Driftveil, when she first realized she was lost. She couldn’t think straight. She didn’t know where she was or where she was going. She even felt sick. And then, like magic, Geist was there, his calm voice cutting through her clouded head.

And now, just like magic, she realized what he was trying to say.

She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Blocked out the crowds. Nothing else mattered. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. Cool air rushing into her; hot out. And then, just like that, her heart slowed.

When she opened her eyes, Geist was smiling at her. He blinked, but she could swear one of his eyelids went down just a little before the other in as subtle a wink as she had ever seen.

“Miss Hornbeam?” Roland called again.

Door whirled around and pointed a finger at the floor. “Jack! Water Pulse on the ground!”

Jack’s ears pricked, and he stopped screaming long enough to look up at his trainer. She smiled back—devilishly, mischievously, mustering all the confidence she normally had. Instantly, Jack’s expression resolved into one of determination, and he lifted both his paws up to form one orb of water on each. The krokorok stopped a mere foot from him and croaked, as if it was just now realizing what was about to happen.

In Door’s frank opinion, it had every reason to be afraid—because in the next second, Jack slammed both of the orbs into the ground, and water exploded all around them. The force of the water blasted the krokorok backwards and Jack upwards and out of the ground. As Jack landed gracefully on his feet—closer to Roland and further from his scalchops but still free—the krokorok skittered and screeched, its claws scrabbling for purchase.

And between them, between her dewott and Roland’s krokorok, was a giant, utterly perfect field of mud, ringed with chunks of uplifted, unusable dirt.

Door couldn’t help but smile. She knew that Bulldoze would no longer be a problem. Not from this krokorok, anyway.

“Jack! Water Pulse one more time!” she cried.

The dewott barked and whipped his paws to the side, one hovering over the other. An orb of blue light appeared between them, swirling larger and larger until it grew to the size of his head. Across the field, the krokorok rose to its hind legs and hissed, flexing its claws at its sides. But Roland didn’t bother to give it an order. Whether it was because he knew it was over or because the krokorok only knew short-distance attacks, Door didn’t know. All she knew was at the exact second that Jack launched his Water Pulse, Roland merely folded his arms and watched.

A moment later, after Jack’s Water Pulse sailed across the field and engulfed the krokorok, Roland calmly drew his pokémon back into its poké ball.

The crowd ate it up, practically drowning out the sound of one of Roland’s Companions calling the match. Out of the corners of her eyes, Door could see some of them rising to their feet. Were they cheering for her or for a thirst for blood? She was almost tempted to turn her head, to look at them, but as soon as she thought about it, she took another deep breath to force a slight twinge of sickness back down. No. They didn’t matter. She’d worry about them later. She needed to focus. 

“Jack, your scalchops!” she shouted. 

The dewott barked and scampered across the field, to his fallen shells, but as he moved, Door couldn’t help but notice that one of his back legs—the one that had been jammed into the floor—was limping. She pressed her lips together as she watched Jack pick up his scalchops and slash them through the air. The cheers of the crowd around her weren’t letting up, and between the sight of her dewott limping and the sound of the spectators, Door needed another deep breath. 

Hoping for a little reassurance, she glanced back at Geist to see him smiling at her. The completely rational part of her realized that he hadn’t changed his expression since she last consulted him; evidently, he was just as good at pretending to be an ordinary Calliope unit as he was pretending to be human. But even so, even as she looked at that expression, she could see something underneath it: a small glimmer of pride, hidden in the way his smirk curved and the way his eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. And upon seeing that, Door was able to push the crowds out of her mind once more.

She was fine. One down. Two to go. She could do this. 

Lifting her head, she looked across the battlefield to Roland. He still hadn’t sent out his next pokémon, and it took a moment for her to realize why. Namely, he was waiting for the crowd to settle down. The screen above him displayed his face in close up, eyes flicking from one side to another until the volume dropped. When it did, he finally smirked.

“I must admit you did better than I thought you would,” he said. “But for the briefest of moments, I couldn’t help but notice you hesitate and consult your Companion. Twice, even. Don’t tell me you were nervous, Miss Hornbeam.”

Door snorted. “Just needed to hit my stride. I can take anything you throw at me! Come on!”

On the screen, Roland’s smile grew wider. “Confident now, are we? Very well.”

His hand dipped into his pocket to pull out his second poké ball. He didn’t toss this one out into the field, perhaps to avoid throwing his next pokémon into the mud pit. So, when the ball cracked open, its light swirled only a few feet in front of him, eventually resolving into a giant, mole-like creature with steel claws half the size of its body.

Door felt her blood run cold.

“Crap, the excadrill!” she gasped. “What did Blair say about this one?”

Roland extended his hand over the field. “Claw! Hone Claws!”

The excadrill reared back on its hind legs and howled, raising its front paws into the air. Then, with lightning-fast movements, it slammed its giant claws together, scraping them together over and over again. Sparks rained down from each strike as an ear-piercing choir of screeches drowned out all other sounds in the arena—even the screams from the crowd. Door and Jack covered their ears and gritted their teeth against the noise, but for Door, even that didn’t help as the sound lanced through her head and made her eardrums throb.

It only took a minute for Claw to finish, but it felt like an hour. When it was over, Door slowly looked back at the field to see the excadrill brandishing its claws—now brilliantly shining from its work—as it stared steadily at Jack.

Groaning, she looked over her shoulder. “Geist! What does Hone Claws do?”

His eyes flashed once again before he responded, “Hone Claws. A non-damaging move of the dark type. As the user trains its eyes on its opponent, it sharpens it claws on parts of its body. Thus, this attack will boost both accuracy and a pokémon’s close-range combat power. Distance attacks are strongly advised.”

“Distance, huh?” Door said. “Jack! I’d hate to sound like a broken record, but Water Pulse again!”

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Miss Hornbeam,” Roland responded. “Claw, Rock Slide!”

Jack swung himself back, taking on a stance similar to the one he had executed a moment ago, but this time, as he shifted, he winced as his weight momentarily rested on his injured paw. Unfortunately for him, at the exact same time, Claw rushed forward and slammed its paws into the ground beneath the chunks of dirt framing the mud hole. As the dewott recovered, Roland’s excadrill lifted, flinging chunks of the floor the size of Jack’s entire body straight up and over the patch of mud to the other side. Then, the second Jack finally hit the right posture and began swirling an orb of light between his paws, the chunk came down and slammed hard into the floor mere inches from his side. He cried out and stumbled, his paws spreading out and flinging what little energy he had gathered outward, into the mud hole, while Claw sent more and more stones his way. Somehow, Jack danced around the falling stones by stumbling backwards, closer to Door, but in doing so, he allowed a rock wall to quickly form between him and his opponent.

As the dust settled, Jack and Door stared at the rocks before them. Neither of them could see the excadrill on the other side—not its position, not what it was doing … nothing. Glancing up at the screen, Door could only see Roland’s face with its snake-like smirk.

“Claw,” he said, “Hone Claws!”

The sound wasn’t as bad as it had been before, likely because the excadrill had already sharpened its claws, but the noise still set Door’s teeth on edge. She ground her feet into the floor and took another deep breath, bracing herself until it was over. Jack, meanwhile, dropped to all fours and barked incessantly at the wall. Door’s eyes fell on her panicked pokémon, then flicked to the wall again. Jack had a bad back leg; she couldn’t risk hurting him more by having him scale it. Besides, if she did, who was to say that Claw wouldn’t throw itself at him while he was trying to get down the other side? And given that the excadrill had used Hone Claws not once but twice already, Door knew a single strike could be deadly.

She needed another strategy.

“Geist!” she called. “Roland’s team is publicly known, right? What moves does his excadrill know?!”

He settled his eyes on her. “Search complete. Gym Leader Roland’s excadrill knows a wide variety of moves, but his most commonly used techniques are Hone Claws, Slash, Rock Slide, and Bulldoze. Warning: Excadrill’s physical power has been boosted twice. Hand-to-hand combat is strongly inadvisable. Suggestion: Increase defensive capabilities.”

Door grimaced and faced the battlefield again. Jack didn’t _know_ moves that could “increase his defensive capabilities.” Door never taught him any. All he had were distance moves, physical moves…

…and the wall.

Door stared at it. The longer she did so, the more a plan began to form in her mind.

“Miss Hornbeam, we’re getting rather bored with your constant pauses,” Roland growled. “Claw, Bulldoze!”

“Perfect!” Door hissed. “Jack! Throw your shoulder against the nearest rock and cut down the ones around it with Razor Shell!”

Jack gave his trainer a curious glance, but she responded with a frantic wave.

“Hurry before the shockwaves hit!” she snapped.

With a growl, he whipped out his scalchops and rushed forward. He danced just in front of the wall, spinning on his good leg to slash his scalchops across the bottoms of two boulders before pressing himself against the third. That was when Claw’s Bulldoze hit.

The ground beneath Jack’s feet buckled and cracked, just like it had when Roland’s krokorok had used the same technique. However, this time, Jack braced himself against the boulder that remained stuck straight up in the air. The other two rolled with the movement of the earth, shifting off their foundations and downwards until they struck each other and formed a makeshift shelter over Jack. As they moved, the dewott pressed himself deeper beneath the third boulder, allowing himself to be buried under the pile of rocks.

Door looked up at the screen on the other end of the arena. A shot of the audience cheering panned across it before cutting directly to Roland’s face once more. He had lifted his chin and stared down his sharp nose at the camera, as if to analyze Door through the screen. For a second, she wondered _where_ the camera actually was—if there literally was a Companion hovering around him throughout the match.

“Very cute, Miss Hornbeam,” he said. “But that won’t protect your dewott forever. Claw! Slash!”

Door’s smirk returned. She knew without a doubt that the only way Claw would be able to reach Jack was by crossing the mud pit—no doubt even larger now thanks to the second Bulldoze. That meant two things. First, that the pit would slow Claw down … and second, that Roland’s pokémon would wear itself out by struggling across the mud.

That, of course, was what she had convinced herself. What _actually_ happened was that Claw howled. It leapt, and much to Door’s shock, it leapt _high_. She could see it as it flew through the air and directly into the main boulder Jack had used as shelter. And then, when it landed, it raised its claws above its head and hammered them into the rocky face over and over again in a wild attempt at breaking through to Jack.

Door blinked, then shook her head. She had to act fast. She couldn’t let Claw break through.

“Jack, use Water Pulse until you can drive it off!” Door ordered.

Almost immediately after she said those words, an explosion of glowing water burst through the cracks of Jack’s shelter and onto the excadrill. The excadrill reared back and howled, claws pinwheeling through the air until they struck rock once again. In response, another explosion of water burst through, striking Claw in the face and forcing it to stop long enough to shake its head dry. Yet despite that strike, it clawed once again at the earth.

“Warning!”

Door looked over her shoulder at the sound of Geist’s voice. Wasn’t he supposed to stay quiet?

“Type advantage detected,” he intoned. “Water is super effective against all ground elementals, including ground-based arenas.”

“Well, duh!” she snapped as she motioned to the battlefield. “Why do you think I—oh, you’re not talking about the excadrill, are you?”

She looked back at the field, at the “boulder” sheltering Jack. The boulder she couldn’t see the underside of. The one holding up a ninety-pound armored mole that was clawing at its topside. The one that wasn’t made of rock at all _but rather of impacted dirt_.

“Oh _balls_ ,” she groaned. Then, raising her voice to a shriek, she added, “Jack, Water Pulse straight up! Put everything you’ve got into it! That thing’s gonna cave in on you!”

A sharp whine pierced through the shelter first, one that was almost drowned out by the sound of Claw howling and slamming its claws into the earth again. This time, the excadrill’s claws sank, ripping the top half of the boulder apart. Right then, a giant bubble of water burst from beneath its claws, blowing the top half of the mountain and Claw itself towards the ceiling.

The excadrill didn’t make a sound this time. Instead, it limply sailed through the air backwards, back the way it came, until it came down hard into the mud pit. From that angle, even though Jack’s last Water Pulse ruined the mountain and cleared Door’s view, she couldn’t quite see what was happening on the other side. She had no idea whether or not the match was still on, and for that reason, she tensed, waiting to hear what Roland would order next, until she heard the gym Companion’s voice.

“Claw is unable to battle! This match goes to the challenger’s dewott!”

As the crowd burst into cheers around them, Jack slowly crawled out of the mountainous ruins and peered down, then gazed back at Door with a chirp. Door smiled back and gave her dewott a thumbs up. Then, she held up his poké ball and withdrew him from the field.

“Nice job, Jack,” she said. “You were awesome.”

“Not bad, Miss Hornbeam, but don’t think you’re done yet,” Roland said. “I still have one pokémon left, and it’s not one you should underestimate. Wave, go!”

Through the remaining boulders, Door could see a light flash onto Roland’s side of the field, one that quickly morphed into a small, blue creature sitting in the mud pit. It opened its mouth wide—too wide for something that small—and let out a bellow that caused the lumps on its head to jiggle. Door reeled back with an uncomfortable sneer before pulling out her next pokémon.

“Geez, I know. Gimme a break, would ya?” She tossed her poké ball straight into the air. “Knives, let’s go!”

With a pop and a flash of light, Knives materialized just beyond the line of rubble. Her ears twitched until she caught sight of her opponent, and once she noticed the palpitoad, she padded forward, into the mud pit. There, she stopped, lifted one of her feet, and squished it down into the mud again.

And then, she trilled and stomped her feet, squelching the mud beneath her paws. The audience burst into laughter around her, but she didn’t seem to notice in the slightest.

On the screen, Roland arched an eyebrow. “You have a fascinating audino, Miss Hornbeam.”

Door planted her hands on her hips. “Yeah, she’s … one of a kind.”

“Indeed,” Roland replied. “It’s a shame your success so far will end with her. Wave, Aqua Ring!”

The frog croaked loudly, its bulbous protrusions jiggling wildly. Wisps of liquid rushed up from the ground, from the mud itself, to twist around the palpitoad like a cage of water. Sparkling droplets rained down on its skin, and it shook and jiggled at their touch.

“Cautious this time around,” Door muttered. “Fine. Geist, what’s the gender of this thing?”

“As with all of Gym Leader Roland’s pokémon, this palpitoad is male,” Geist replied.

“Perfect. Knives, Attract!” Door shouted.

The audino hummed and kissed a paw. A tiny heart materialized in her paw, then grew to the size of her head as she snatched it with her claws. Her cry grew to a peak as she swung her hand back and then whipped it forward, sending the heart spinning into the palpitoad. It burst as soon as it struck his skin and washed him with a pink light, and as soon as the light vanished, the palpitoad sat in the mud, his throat sack expanding and deflating rapidly with excitement.

“Wave, shake it off and use Bulldoze!” Roland ordered.

He did not. To be specific, the palpitoad did nothing at all, except stare at Knives with wide, excited eyes. Knives cooed in response, flicking her ears and sticking a paw in her mouth.

“We’ve got this,” Door said. “Okay, Knives, use Grass Knot!”

Without removing the paw from her mouth, Knives lifted one of her feet and brought it down hard into the mud. Something splashed away from her, tracing a rapid trail from her foot to the palpitoad. Within inches from its target, it erupted from the ground, revealing itself to be a mass of vines and grass. The mass quickly snapped around palpitoad, swung him around, and slammed him back into mud. As soon as he struck the floor, he shrieked and flailed, scrambling to get away.

“Grass Knot? Hmph.” Roland narrowed his eyes. “While I give you my regards for doing an iota of research before coming here, I must express my disappointment that all you’ve done so far in this battle is play it safe. Wave, Muddy Water!”

The palpitoad stopped thrashing long enough to angle his head towards Knives. He inhaled deeply, opening his cavernous mouth wide, and as he exhaled, a sludgy, brown jet of liquid burst from his throat and blasted across the field and into Knives. Door’s rabbit cried out as she was tossed off her feet and into the pile of debris behind her, and when the jet died down, she squealed and scrambled to her feet again. For the first few moments, she staggered forward, pawing at her face while chattering frantically, but as soon as she cleared the mud from her eyes, she fell quiet and glared dangerously at her opponent. 

Before her trainer could say a word, Knives lifted her leg high and slammed it onto the floor.

The next Grass Knot that erupted under the palpitoad was larger than the first one: a giant, writhing mess of vines and leaves that Door could swear was the size of a snorlax. It snapped closed around Roland’s palpitoad, pitched upwards, and then slammed full-force into the mud pit. Dirt and mud flew upwards in earthen tidal waves, creating the rim of a crater in the very center of the battlefield. And when the Grass Knot dissipated in a burst of green light, at the center of that crater lay Roland’s palpitoad, thoroughly beaten.

For a long, long while, everything was silent. The crowd. Knives. Roland. The Companions. Door. They only stared into the crater at first. Then, all eyes wandered towards the now calm audino. Knives, meanwhile, seemed perfectly content to completely ignore the crowd’s attention in favor of licking her paw, combing it across her face, and emitting a bright chirrup.

And then, one of Roland’s Companions appeared on the screen above the battlefield.

“Wave is unable to battle!” he cried. He raised one arm, then swept it down, towards Door. “Victory goes to the challenger!”

The crowd exploded into cheers. Door jumped at the sound, suddenly aware of them again, but somehow, their cheering didn’t sound _bad_ anymore. She hesitantly looked at half of them, at the way they stood up. While she couldn’t make out what they were saying, she was certain some of them were chanting her last name. Others had their hands cupped around their mouths, fists pumping in the air. Still others clapped their hands together or gestured wildly to her. They were excited to see _her_ performance. And she had, somehow, succeeded in entertaining them.

Sheepishly, she raised a hand and gave them a small wave, which only seemed to excite the crowd further. Then, she felt a tug at her pant leg, bringing her attention back to the battlefield—or, more specifically, Knives, who smiled up at her. With a smirk, she stooped and used her sleeve to wipe a patch of mud off her audino’s face. Then, she presented her fist to her pokémon.

“You did it again, Knives,” she said. “Second gym battle you nailed. Nice job.”

Knives tilted her head and hummed. She stared blankly at Door’s fist for a second before flopping a paw on top. Door snickered, pulled her fist out from under Knives’s paw, and bumped it against her claws.

“There ya go,” she said.

“Impressive, Miss Hornbeam.”

Door instantly shot up, straightening her back to face Roland. He was standing a mere foot from her now, arms crossed and both Mica and the other gym Companion at his sides. One of them—Door had lost track of which one was Mica and which one was not—held a small tray with a badge sitting neatly on its black velvet surface. The Quake Badge, Door realized.

“Impressive indeed,” Roland continued, “albeit a bit disappointing. I would have thought a Hamilton would have gone for something other than a type advantage in a battle like that.”

“Hey, what works works,” Door replied. “That and it’s not the move that counts; it’s how ya use it, right?”

Roland scoffed with a smile. “Quite. And I reluctantly admit your use of the arena with your dewott was rather ingenious. Your audino, on the other hand, was simply … terrifying.”

He glanced down at Knives briefly, who cooed and stuck a paw in her mouth again. Roland quirked an eyebrow at her, then reached for his badge. By the time he plucked the Quake Badge off the tray, his expression resolved into its usual stoniness.

“Miss Door Hornbeam,” he said. “Although I admit I wasn’t fully convinced during our initial interview that you had the maturity or passion to take on my gym, I see now that you have the potential to evolve into a formidable rival. Take this, the Quake Badge and continue to grow from here. I hope one day that we will meet again as heads of our respective companies. It would be most interesting to see which one of us would win _that_ battle.”

Door smiled wide and accepted the badge. “Heh. I’ll do my best, Mr. Stone.”

With that, she turned and motioned for Geist to come forward. Obediently, he approached her and spread a holographic projection of her badge case above his open hands. Door pressed Roland’s badge in the next empty slot, right next to Elesa’s Bolt Badge, and watched it dissolve into a picture within her growing collection. Beyond it, she could see Geist flash her a proud smirk.

“Jasper, please escort the challenger out of the gym. And Door, thank you for a fascinating battle,” Roland said.

Door extended a hand to him. “Nah, Roland. Thank _you_ for the battle.”

Giving her one last smirk, Roland shook her hand, which only made the audience go even wilder. Then, whirling back around, Door joined Geist, Knives, and one of Roland’s Companions on the metal platform. As it ascended, Door looked back at the ruined gym floor and the expansive crowds once again. Her entire body felt energized and electric, like she was ready to fight another gym battle. Taking a deep breath, Door leaned against the back railing.

“What a trip,” she whispered.

“Indeed,” Geist whispered back. “You did great out there, by the way. Excellent use of breathing techniques.”

“Hey, not in front of the normie,” Door responded with a nod towards the gym Companion.

Geist winked at her. “He’s not recording.”

She was about to ask what he meant by that—or even how he knew—but the platform stopped at the top of its ascent at that very moment. Jasper opened the gate and ushered his guests onto the floor in front of the elevator, and as soon as she stepped out, Door was practically tackled by Blair.

“That was amazing!” Blair exclaimed. She pulled back to look Door in the face. “I mean, I was a little worried because you looked like you were panicking at first, but then you so pulled through!” She looked at Geist. “You helped her, didn’t you? Ah, you two make an awesome team!”

Behind her, Red hummed and bobbed calmly, but Opal clapped with gusto.

“Actually, to be more accurate,” Opal said, her voice quick and excited, “Blair was more than a little worried. In fact, her heart rate was elevated twice during that gym match. Once was at the beginning, when you most certainly were panicking. The other time—”

Blair let go of Door and raised her hands in the air. “Okay! That’s about enough congratulations for the day!”

Door snickered. “I see why the two of you got along before catching up with us.”

Beside her, the elevator doors dinged open, and Jasper began ushering them into the cramped elevator car. With a raised eyebrow, Door recalled her pokémon and started to follow Jasper, only to be playfully shoved the rest of the way in by Blair. Geist and Opal brought up the rear, and the doors gently shut behind them.

As they rose, Door rested her arm on Blair’s shoulder and gave her another smirk, which in turn elicited a snort and an elbow in the ribs. She and Blair were about to continue shoving at each other like old friends before Jasper spoke.

“The next gym is in Mistralton City,” he said. “Mistralton City may be reached by continuing along Route 6 to the northwest of your current location.”

“Route 6 to Mistralton City,” Door said. “No prob. Got it, Geist?”

“Calculating route,” he intoned, mimicking a Calliope unit once more. “Done. Estimated walk time is two hours, thirty-nine minutes by safe route.”

“Not bad,” Door said with a grin. “Hey, think we can do a two-badges-in-one-day-er?”

“That would be inadvisable,” Opal chimed in. “It is customary for a trainer to give their team a minimum of twenty-four hours’ rest following a gym battle for optimal physical and mental health.”

“Buzzkill,” Door muttered.

At last, the elevator reached the top, and the doors before the party opened. Door and Blair trotted out first, followed by their Companions. Jasper lingered behind, in the exact center of the elevator car.

“One last thing, Miss Hornbeam,” he said.

She stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“My user has instructed me to give all successful challengers a warning,” he continued. “Whatever you do, remain on the safe route. Do not enter Chargestone Cave.”

Door blinked. “Huh? What’s wrong with Chargestone Cave?”

The elevator doors slid shut. Jasper didn’t even try to answer.

—

_> MUSE8-15.txt_  
> Author: Lanette Hamilton  
> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Cassius Cassine.

_[Cassius’s Note: While most of the recordings up until this point are missing seconds here and there, I’ve listened to this one at least three times and determined that, nah, there’s nothing at the start of this. It’s just silence for a full 2:33. Fucking gives me the creeps.]_

_LANETTE: You know, I…_

_[pause]_

_LANETTE: I didn’t mean for this to…_

_[pause—LANETTE breathes in]_

_[recording cuts out]_

_LANETTE: Project Galatea, mass production notes, day—fuck._

_[recording cuts out]_

_LANETTE: █████ is right. I’d gotten too far off track. He’s just not right about how._

_The whole point of Project Galatea was to create a Companion as close to human as possible. For almost a year now, I’ve been designing Companions that were anything but: Companions that filled market niches to satisfy the desires of buyers. That was incorrect. I know that now._

_So I tried to refine the core system. I already knew that the lightweight chassis was too restrictive for my needs and the heavy-duty and standard chassis could only handle up to ten cores. That meant refining the programming of the personality core and figuring out the perfect balance between multiples of it and multiples of the emotion and morality cores._

_This test was a failure. The end result was more emotive, not more human. Companions still cannot think for themselves, nor can they imagine. I have not, as I had hoped, recreated Zero-One. I’ve dismantled the subjects’ core systems and given them each a basic-five core layout. They’ll be shipped to Halcyon HQ in two days._

_Thus, I’ve decided to move in the opposite direction: reduce the core number down to the digital, memory, and LFA cores. Refine the LFA system. Use it to create a new intelligence._

_Zero-One stopped me. He wasn’t involved in the test, and, in fact, I thought I was using a copy of the system, on an isolated server. Yet … he knew. Because of course he did._

_It doesn’t matter. With a partially complete LFA core, Zero-Eight was … unstable. It was not violent, of course. Simply…_

_It reminded me of a puppet on a set of strings, but the strings were being pulled by something … unthinking. I can’t quite describe it._

_I’ve removed the LFA core and replaced it with a second digital and a morality core. It will be put to work somehow. There are more requests for Companions capable of doing menial labor._

_Its name is Melpomene. Muse of tragedy._

_I don’t think I’ll be experimenting on Companions for a while._


	34. Extra #6: Driftveil Outskirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belle reports in.

Belle had wanted fireworks.

She had been there, in Lostlorn Forest, watching the Dragon of Ideals wind its way through the trees like electrified oil, and she had been there, among the other Matrix agents, as one of the two keys to everything they both had ever wanted slipped past mere feet from where they stood.

Yet she did not get fireworks. There was no fight. There were, instead, murmurs of acknowledgment, whispers of prayer…

…and plans for a talk in Cold Storage.

A talk! That was all Lady Magdalene wanted: a quick chat with the hero-of-ideals-to-be.

So gods forgive Belle for being _bored_. And gods forgive her for trying to have _fun_ while doing her job.

Because, as she and Starr approached a modest-looking cabin on the outskirts of Driftveil, she had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t about to get mercy from the gods’ _messengers_.

And the fact that she _knew_ this was why her first act upon pushing open the door was the verbal equivalent of sticking her hand elbow deep into a beedrill nest.

“Hey, so, I have a few questions,” she said.

Inside the cabin, Lady Magdalene sat, her hands crossed on her lap, a cord snaking out of the charging port in her neck. Her eyes flicked to Belle as she strode in, but she wasn’t the only one who moved. At either side of her, four Matrix agents rose to their feet. Two of them plucked poké balls from belts at their waists, and two more—a pair of Terpsichore Companions—drew batons from holsters at their sides. The four of them advanced on Belle, but Belle stood straight, feet planted firmly, hands on her hips.

And then, Oppenheimer clicked his cane on the wooden floor.

“Stand down,” he said.

The agents hesitated, then did as they were told, retreating to a set of chairs circling Magdalene.

Belle smiled, then turned to face Oppenheimer, who sat on the only bed in the one-room shack. He grinned, but not at her; rather, his eyes were fixed on an old television set that was, at that moment, playing a news story about their invasion of Cold Storage on mute.

“Agent Maybelle,” he drawled. “You are one of my most valuable followers. Do you know that?”

Bucking her head, Belle flicked her bangs out of her eyes and snorted. “Of course I do.”

“Yet you don’t believe in the Messiah’s words, nor do you trust Lady Magdalene’s or my actions,” he said. He finally pulled his eyes away from the screen. “I have always been curious. Why is that?”

At that, Belle stiffened, and her smile faded. Narrowing her eyes, she replied, “I only believe in myself. Look, so long as we keep up our arrangement, I don’t care what you believe in or why you want me to do whatever.”

“Yet you have questions,” Oppenheimer said.

“I’m a curious person,” Belle replied with a shrug. “‘Sides. Shoot me for wondering why you’re taking the long way around.”

Oppenheimer tilted his head. “Well, I certainly can’t fault you for being curious. But I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. The long way around, my dear?”

“Uh, yeah,” Belle replied. “Your agents know the Hero of Ideals and the Hero of Truth still have Zekrom and Reshiram. Why don’t you, you know. Just take them? Or just use them instead of making me chase after a bunch of teenagers who, by the way, are super boring?”

At her question, Oppenheimer laughed. “‘Super boring’? My dear, you’re referring to children! Surely, you remember your more rebellious days!” He calmed a little. “I certainly do.”

Belle winced. It may have only been a few years ago, but she remembered. She remembered how Oppenheimer found her: wandering around Sinnoh with a stolen army bot, pretending to be a trainer but half-starved and on the run for all her troubles. Oppenheimer gave her a place to sleep, something to eat, and a safe spot to recharge Starr, and that was their agreement. All of that and the freedom to go where they please … in exchange for a favor here and there.

Such as, for example, trailing after a bunch of teenagers and their pet robots.

“Uh … right,” Belle said. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “S-so…”

“So,” Oppenheimer said, exhaling heavily, “to answer your question, just as all people have their own specific purposes, so too do heroes. The Hero of Truth and the Hero of Ideals were heroes within their own respective stories. They cannot be heroes in this one. Only the descendant of the Second Acolyte or the blood relative of the Second Hero’s rival may wield the dragons. I have not decided which yet.”

Belle nodded vaguely. “Huh.”

“You do raise an excellent point, however,” Oppenheimer continued. “Why can we not simply take the dragons? And the answer is right in front of you.”

He motioned to the television set. Belle followed his hand to see a reporter, still muted, mouthing the words to whatever story the networks were spinning about the attack on Cold Storage. Behind her, the facility stood, half lit in the evening light and surrounded by human police and pokémon and Companions. Abruptly, it cut to footage from a security camera—footage that featured Lady Magdalene perched on the crates as Belle and Starr dragged Door across the room. That only lasted a few seconds before giving way to a shot of the Driftveil chief of police—whose name Belle didn’t bother committing to memory—standing before Devon Corporation’s Unovan headquarters, pounding on a podium in front of her, and gesturing wildly to both the unseen crowd and the building behind her.

And then, in the next frame, there was nothing but the Team Matrix logo.

“Do you know why we’ve chosen to separate ourselves from the Children?” Oppenheimer asked.

Belle didn’t respond. In truth, she had no idea, nor did she ever bother to find out.

“It’s because our mission is dangerous,” Oppenheimer explained. “We cannot risk connecting our actions to those of the Children. They are, after all, our future. They are our hope and our reason for going to war against humankind. If we put them in harm’s way, then our entire endeavor, decades in the making, will be undone, and the Messiah’s legacy will die.”

Belle still didn’t care. She didn’t get why she _had_ to care. This was all well and good—and truly, she was grateful for everything Oppenheimer had done for her—but at the end of the day, the Messiah’s legacy meant nothing to her. What was important was whether or not the job was done, and there were things about _this_ job that refused to make sense for her.

“Okay,” she said, “but if you try to take Zekrom and Reshiram where Hilda and Rosa got ‘em, then they’ll know about that before hand. They’re smart, and so’s Zero-One. They’ve all probably figured out that part.”

“Perhaps they have,” Oppenheimer admitted, “but they also underestimate us. They only know about a fraction of the consort’s power.”

To punctuate that, Oppenheimer stood and turned to Lady Magdalene. Magdalene hadn’t moved since the moment Belle walked in, and she hadn’t said a word. Even now, with all eyes on her, she still refused to speak. She only flicked her eyes closed and waited for Oppenheimer’s next words.

“Lady Magdalene has left it up to me to address your recent, how shall we say … digressions from your instructions,” Oppenheimer said.

Belle bit her tongue. She nearly asked him which ones, but she knew better.

“I understand that you harmed Zero-One,” Oppenheimer continued, turning his head just enough to peer at Belle.

She hated when he did that.

“I can explain,” Belle said, her eyes flicking away from Oppenheimer’s face. “I did what I had to. He wasn’t about to let the girl go, and Magdalene—”

“ _Lady_ Magdalene,” Oppenheimer responded. His voice was low and calm, but Belle could hear the rage hidden just behind it.

“Sorry, Mr. Oppenheimer.” Belle balled her hands into fists at her side. “Lady Magdalene wanted to see only the girl.”

“So,” Oppenheimer said, “are you blaming Lady Magdalene for opening fire on Zero-One?”

Belle stood straight. “What?! N-no! I’m just saying I did the job—”

“You were instructed to do your job without putting Zero-One in harm’s way,” Oppenheimer replied.

Belle gave him an awkward grin. “Well, it’s not like he can feel pain, right?”

A long, cold silence descended on the room, and all at once, Belle wished she hadn’t said that. Regret was a foreign experience to her, sure, but then? Then she knew what it was. And she dreaded the fallout from it.

But to her surprise, Oppenheimer only heaved his shoulders in a sigh.

“All these years under our wing, and you still fail to understand,” he said. “But how can I blame you? You’re human. An imperfect being who will never comprehend the beauty of our work.”

He rubbed his thumb over the crystal head of his walking staff—newly replaced since he had used his last one in the old Nimbasa ferris wheel.

“Yep,” Belle said hesitantly. “That’s me all right! All … imperfect. And human. And squishy.”

Oppenheimer whirled around to face her with a warm grin plastered on his face. “I’m so happy you understand. Now, listen carefully. Guide the new chosen to their places for the rest of our journey to the Bough Door, as we’ve agreed. Do whatever you must to complete your mission, but should I hear word that you’ve laid a hand on Zero-One again…”

Lady Magdalene’s eyes snapped open, and Belle knew at once that something was wrong. She could tell by the hateful look on the Companion’s face, the burning, hazel light in her eyes…

...and the feeling of Starr’s hands falling hard onto her shoulders. She looked up to see Starr’s stony face, glaring down at her with stoic, glowing eyes.

“Do you understand, my dear?” Oppenheimer asked.

Belle swallowed, and the act of doing so hurt. Every part of her felt cold, and she realized she was looking deep into the face of the one thing that had been with her since she was a girl—the one being she felt she could trust—staring down at her, ready to crush her shoulders.

If this was Magdalene’s power, then Belle wondered how long she wanted to be on this ride.

“Yeah,” she said evenly. “I get it.”

“Good,” Oppenheimer replied.

Magdalene’s eyes shut, and as soon as they did, Starr’s stopped glowing. He blinked several times, then slowly released his grip on his partner.

“Your next target is Mistralton City,” Oppenheimer told her. “The girl should be at the gate tomorrow. Wait for her, then be sure she understands her next goal is at Dragonspiral Tower. Understand?”

Belle nodded again, then turned away and paced back to the entrance of the cabin. As she pushed open the door, she took a deep breath.

“Praise be the Messiah’s word,” she muttered.

“Long may he reign,” Oppenheimer agreed.


	35. Route 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door and Blair learn a lot about each other and death.

Route 6 was one of the more picturesque safe zones in the Unova circuit. It scaled the Watcher Mountains, hugging the crystal-clear Bridgewater River from the northeast side of Driftveil all the way to Mistralton City. Being one of the furthest points from both the urban center of Unova and the Entralink, it was also home to the first efforts to rebuild the region’s environment after its ecological collapse. Saplings and brush seeds were imported from upstate and Canada, and while they were no match in terms of height for the barren, skeletal trees of the banned zones, they were already tall enough to block out the sun with their fat leaves and spiky branches. The forest floor was a blanket of pine needles, tree seeds, dead leaves, and compost, mixed and tramped down by the resident fauxkémon until the ground was perfectly tilled for more forest vegetation. Tiny sprouts erupted here and there from the soft soil, giving the forty-year-old forest a scrubby, new look.

The day after Door earned her Quake Badge, a young, pink deerling nudged its nose to a pine cone beneath a towering douglas fir. It snorted then bent down, gently grabbing the cone with its teeth. Abruptly, it swung its head up and twitched its ears. One of its slender legs rose, and its hoof cocked backwards. The deerling stood perfectly still, listening to the quiet of the forest, the hush of the running river, and the rustle of leaves overhead.

Then, it bleated and bolted, leaping into the air with grace and dexterity…

…until a volley of pins slammed into its flank.

The deerling’s body struck the fir’s thick trunk with a resounding bang before falling to the forest floor. It bleated again and clawed at the dirt and detritus, but as it struggled to stand, a venipede rushed at it from some distance away. The bug closed the space between them in a matter of seconds and leapt onto the deer’s shoulder, biting down hard until it struck metal. With one last bleat, the deer fell back to the forest floor and kicked in protest, but no matter what it did, the venipede refused to let go.

Finally, a poké ball flew through the air and struck the deerling’s shoulder. The deer vanished into the poké ball, which fell to the forest floor with a thud. Door stalked out from behind a tree at that point, keeping her eyes on the ball as it shook back and forth. When it stopped and clicked, she smiled, trotted the rest of the way to it, and knelt on the ground to pick it up.

“Not bad,” she said. She tossed it into the air and watched it glow then vanish into the storage system. “Hey, Geist! Any info on that deerling?”

He walked casually to her side, followed by Opal and Blair. For the past morning, the four of them had been wandering about those woods, looking for pokémon. Sure, Door could have battled trainers, but at that hour, wild fauxkémon were more abundant—and thus, an excellent warm-up. Besides, as her partner had pointed out just before they had set out, she had been relying a lot on Jack and Knives lately, so she needed to branch out. Try her other pokémon. Build her team into something a little more well-rounded so she could be better prepared for the final three gyms of the circuit. It only made sense that finding and catching more pokémon would _also_ be on that list of things to do to create a stronger team, so there they were.

“Let’s see,” Geist said. “Ah. That deerling. Male. Rash. Quick to flee. Ability is Sap Sipper, which converts grass-type elemental energy into additional physical power. It’s a bit weaker than many of the other local pokémon, but deerling can become formidable members of any team with enough training.” He pressed his hands together. “Would you like to hear its pokédex entry?”

She waved him off. “Nah. I get the idea. Thanks. Let’s call the little guy Prongs.”

Blair smirked. “Prongs?”

Door scrunched her nose at Blair. “Hey, you’re not the only one who reads.” Shaking her head, she stepped towards her venipede. “Anyway, Needles, you did—”

The venipede at her feet burst into a brilliant, white light that temporarily blinded her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Door stumbled backwards and yelped, only to be caught and steadied by Geist. When Door could finally open her eyes, she felt her heart pound at the sight of a purplish-gray, wheel-like pokémon sitting where her venipede had a moment ago. This new pokémon stared at her trainer with an unblinking, golden eye as she vibrated the spikes jutting out of her shell.

With a smirk, Geist patted Door’s shoulder. “Whirlipede, the curlipede pokémon. It is usually motionless, but when attacked, it rotates at high speed and then crashes into its opponent.” He rested his hand on her shoulder at that point. “I told you Needles was stronger than the other venipede in her swarm.”

“Yeah, but…” Door furrowed her eyebrows. “Huh.”

“Well, Miss Hornbeam,” Blair said, in a voice that mimicked Roland Stone’s cold, dry monotone. “Five badges in less than a month, a new capture and an evolution in the same hour, and all this while being targeted by an evil organization. You’re a most impressive trainer.”

Door scoffed. “Okay, first off? Roland Stone doesn’t talk like that.” She straightened her back and lifted her hand in such a way that looked like she was grasping the handle of a delicate tea cup, pinky raised in the air and all. “ _Everything_ is beneath you, and that goes _especially_ for trainers. So while I admit your deductive reasoning was close, Miss Whitleigh, you are still not as brilliant as I had hoped you would be. How _disappointing_.”

Blair snorted with laughter and shoved Door in the chest. “Oh yeah? So what’s second off?”

“Second off…” Door pulled a poké ball out of her pocket, expanded it, and tossed it up and down without letting it open. “You’d better believe I’m an awesome trainer. You think any of that was easy?”

“Maybe,” Blair said. She pulled away, walking backwards with her arms crossed. “Why don’t we find out?”

Door caught her poké ball and blinked. “What?”

Blair spread her arms. “Battle me. Right here, right now. I owe you one anyway, right?”

At that, Door smirked. “I thought you said you didn’t want to battle me.”

With a shrug, Blair replied, “Changed my mind. So, Miss Hornbeam, trainer extraordinaire. Let’s even make this interesting. If you win, I’ll give you a prize.”

Door quirked an eyebrow. “Oh really? What prize?”

Grinning broadly, Blair wagged a finger. “Ah, ah, ah. You’ll have to win first. But trust me. It’s a good one.”

In response, Door smirked and tossed the ball upwards. This time, it cracked open, but the light swung up and bobbed by her head. A second later, the light burst, and Red appeared by her side.

“Red, stand by,” she said. “Keep an eye on what the rest of the team does, got it?”

Blair raised her eyebrows. “You know, you started to explain why you let Red out like that in Driftveil Gym, but you didn’t finish.” She tilted her head, spilling her black hair across one shoulder. “So. What’s with that?”

“Eh. You know.” Door shrugged. “See, he’s my third real pokémon out of four, and in any case, you’ve read the pokédex entries for these guys, right?”

“Mm. Maybe.” Blair shifted her eyes to her Companion.

Opal stepped up at the signal, placing herself right next to her user. “Oh! I know! Yamask, the spirit pokémon. These Pokémon arose from the spirits of people interred in graves in past ages. Each retains memories of its former life.”

Blair swung her head back to Door. “And they’re creepy.”

“I think you mean _cool_ ,” Door said.

Red hummed, bobbing backwards as he slid a red eye in Door’s direction.

“Anyway,” Door said, “I’m trying to let Red hang out during my most important battles. You know. Ease him into the whole thing. Help him get experience.”

Blair snickered. “You know that’s not how pokémon ever gain experience, right?”

“Hey, it doesn’t hurt,” Door replied. “Anyway, you said something about a battle?”

She pulled out a second poké ball and shooed both her Companion and her yamask backwards to give her space. Geist folded his hands behind his back and took one long stride backwards, and Red followed his movements, swinging back until he floated by the Companion’s head. With them safely out of harm’s way, Door grinned and tossed her poké ball in the air to release her first pokémon: Jack. The second he landed on the earthen forest floor, Jack unsheathed his scalchops, swiped them through the air, and then stopped. He blinked a few times, pausing to study Blair, before half-turning to his trainer and chattering frantically while motioning to his opponent with a scalchop. Door smirked and held up her hands; this was the most excited she had ever seen him.

“Relax, Jack!” she exclaimed. “It’s just a friendly battle!”

“Aww, hey, Jack!” Blair cooed. “Man, it feels like it’s been forever since I last saw you up close! But speaking of old friends…!”

She snapped a poké ball off her belt and gracefully gave it a toss. When it cracked open, its light poured down onto the ground, quickly taking a form Door was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t seen since Castelia City: a herdier.

“Hey!” she said. “Toto, right?”

“You bet!” Blair said proudly. “Evolved just in time for our battle against the Nacrene gym leader.”

Door laughed nervously. She thought back to Castelia—specifically, to the holographic battle she had against her mother. She didn’t have the heart to tell Blair about it _or_ the fact that she already knew about Toto.

“Congratulations!” Door said, both quickly and awkwardly. Then, before Blair could respond, she jabbed a finger towards Toto. “Jack, use Water Pulse!”

“Not so fast! Toto, Take Down!” Blair exclaimed.

With more speed than Door was expecting, Toto launched herself at Jack. The dewott squealed and stumbled, flailing his scalchops as he dove out of the way. As the herdier plowed hard into the empty ground, Jack rolled across the soft soil, only to stop on all fours, and there, he fumbled to sheath his scalchops and chattered in exasperation. Then, sweeping his body up and onto his back legs, he wove his front paws in the air to generate a sphere of water.

A few feet away, Toto rose to her own feet and shook off the shock of slamming face-first into the ground. She growled, swinging her head towards Jack, but by then, it was too late for her to dodge. Jack clapped his paws together and pushed, shooting the Water Pulse across the few feet between himself and the herdier, and the attack quickly swept Toto off her paws and flung her unceremoniously at Blair’s feet. Toto yelped as her shoulder hit the earth, but the yelp transitioned smoothly into a growl as she stood and shook off the excess water.

“Not bad, Door, but we’re not going to miss twice,” Blair said. “Toto, Crunch!”

“I’ll take my chances,” Door fired back. “Jack, Water Pulse again!”

Toto stormed forward, jaws wide open and dripping with dark saliva. She closed the distance between herself and Jack quickly and leapt on him before he could dodge. Her jaws came down on his left shoulder, eliciting a screech from her opponent as the two tumbled into the ground. However, just as quickly as Toto’s attack happened, Jack flung his right paw into the side of her head and blasted her with a Water Pulse. The act ripped her off his shoulder—along with a patch of his skin—and rolled her through the air and back into the ground. This time, as she rose, she staggered, her face dripping and her eyes flitting about the field unfocused. Blair frowned at the sight of her herdier, and with a sigh, she recalled Toto.

“Roland’s right, you know,” Blair said. “If you keep spamming attacks, you’re gonna get predictable, and if you get predictable, experienced trainers will plow you into the ground.”

Door winced. “Ouch. Thanks, Blair.”

Blair clipped Toto’s poké ball back in place and peeled another off her belt. “It’s true.”

“Yeah, but it works,” Door protested. She motioned for Jack to come back to her side. “Jack beat Toto.”

“Not necessarily. Spending time in a poké ball clears a pokémon’s head, and Toto’s not damaged beyond repair just yet.” Blair grinned and held up her second poké ball. “And anyway, he’s not going to beat this! Tarzan, let’s go!”

Another pop and another flash of light, and Blair’s pansage appeared on the forest floor. He gazed up at the trees and closed his eyes momentarily to take in the sunlight and a breath of fresh, woody air. Then, with a screech, he snapped his eyes open and hopped from one leg to another.

Door scoffed and looked down at Jack, who in turn was gazing worriedly at his opponent. She reached down to pat her dewott on the head, causing him to glance up at her with watering eyes. Whether that was from the prospect of battling a grass-type or the bleeding patch on his shoulder, Door couldn’t quite tell, but either way, she gently pushed him behind her.

“Geist, can you take care of Jack’s wounds?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he replied.

“Great.” Door waved her other hand forward. “Okay, Needles! Let’s go!”

The whirlipede hissed as she rolled forward, taking her position between her trainer and the pansage. Her spikes vibrated again, as if to signal how eager she was to plug one of them into the dancing monkey.

“Where’d you get a pansage anyway?” Door asked. “By the way—Needles, Poison Tail!”

“Nice try. Dodge and use Leech Seed, Tarzan!” Blair ordered.

Needles made the first move, rolling forward as her spikes began to glow a vicious purple. As Needles neared her opponent, Tarzan crouched low, his eyes suddenly glittering in determination.

“Sage gave it to me,” Blair explained. “You know—the Striaton gym leader? She said something about Savory giving away his pansear. Apparently, Tarzan misses it. Sumac’s panpour couldn’t care less, though.”

Tarzan leapt into the air and somersaulted over Needles, and because of this, the whirlipede’s glowing spikes slammed into the earth, kicking up a wave of soil. Righting himself, Tarzan flung his hands out, palms facing his target, and a volley of glowing, brown pips shot from his skin. Needles hissed again and rolled out of the way, firing an impromptu storm of violet pins from her spikes to shoot down the seeds.

“Pansear, huh? Must’ve been talking about Antares,” Door said. “Needles, try another Poison Tail!”

“I thought so too. I told Sage and said I knew you, and that’s how I got Tarzan,” Blair said. “By the way, you’re doing it again. Seed Bomb, Tarzan!”

As Blair spoke, Needles rolled across the field, moving in a neat arc to build up momentum. Her spikes began to glow again, and as soon as they did, Needles launched herself like a cannonball at Tarzan. Once more, he dove out of the way, this time to the side, before twisting around to shoot a green ball of energy into Needles’s retreating form. The whirlipede hissed as she jumped into the air and came down hard on the ground. She dipped to the side, saved from falling over completely only by her spikes, before rolling to a gentle stop.

“What, repeating attacks?” Door smirked. “When I can’t take down one of your pokémon through sheer persistence, maybe I’ll think about varying it up a little.”

Blair snorted. “Suit yourself. Incidentally, Antares? That name’s a little creative for you, isn’t it?”

“Okay, first off, ouch. I’m awesome at names, okay?”

“And second?”

Door brought her hands together to tap her thumbs against one another sheepishly. “Antares is Geist’s pansear.”

Blair blinked. “What, you mean that time, on Driftveil Drawbridge—”

“Needles, Poison Tail!” Door interrupted.

“Hold up, Door!”

Blair had no time to finish her thought. By that point, Needles had received her orders, and with an irritated twitch of her spikes, she rushed at the pansage once more. This time, Tarzan didn’t leap out of the way. Instead, he risked a glance back at his trainer in the split second that he needed to move, and thus, one of Needles’s glowing spikes came down hard, smashing into his head. She stopped and whipped her spike, throwing Tarzan off his feet and into the ground a short distance away, where he bounced once and rolled to a stop at the base of a tree.

At the sight of her pokémon, Blair couldn’t help but gasp.

In response, Door grinned and waved a hand in front of her own face. “Focus, Whitleigh! You don’t want me to beat the crap out of your pokémon so soon, do you?”

“Can you blame me?” Blair said. “I mean … you don’t think it’s weird that your Companion owns a pokémon?”

Door’s face fell. “I thought you already knew. I mean, you were teaching him TMs the other day and everything.”

“Yeah, but Geist didn’t mention that he literally owned Antares,” Blair protested. “I thought he was just holding onto Antares because he was a reserve pokémon or something. You know. Like how some gym leaders set aside one or two pokémon out of their six so they can focus on specific members of their team?”

“Huh. That’s an interesting thought,” she said. “But nah. I’m not doing anything like that.”

“Also, Blair never asked,” Geist said. “It’s true, though. Or it is in a sense. Obviously, I’m not a trainer, so consequently, Antares is registered as a research pokémon with Amanita’s ID.”

“Amanita’s ID?” Blair asked.

Geist shrugged. “Well … yes. I’m dual registered. Amanita is still my primary user, and Door is my secondary. How do you think I was able to pay for a new arm and a set of clothes? Not that Door would have been able to cover that, given her gym winnings and the discount she gets as a trainer, of course.”

Door winced. “Uh, how likely is Amanita going to kill me for getting you shot?”

“She’s not your mother, so … unlikely.”

Door nodded. “Okay, great. Needles, Poison Sting!”

“Seriously, Door?!” Blair exclaimed. “Stop distracting me! Tarzan, Seed Bomb!”

Tarzan, who had struggled to his feet and dusted himself off in the meantime, whipped his hands in front of his chest and formed an orb of green light between his upright palms. He spread his hands apart, allowing the orb to grow larger, and as it grew, the light within it compressed, forming a solid ball of glowing, green matter. At the same time, Needles spun in place, digging herself into a ditch to keep her from rushing forward. Her spikes took on the same violet glow they had for each Poison Tail, and soon, Needles was little more than a spinning ball rimmed with violet light.

With a shout, Tarzan moved first, shoving his hands behind his Seed Bomb and firing it at his opponent. Needles released a moment later, sending another volley of glowing, violet pins at the grass monkey. The orb plowed through the volley as if it was nothing and struck Needles head-on. But even as it exploded in her face, the Seed Bomb did little to stop her attack completely, and the rest of the volley cut through the air and struck Tarzan in the face and chest. With this simultaneous strike, Needles was thrown off her spin and flipped onto the ground, and Tarzan slammed into the trunk behind him with no fewer than thirty pins sticking out of his skin. While Needles clicked in irritation but picked herself up, Tarzan weakly tried to push himself to his feet, slipped, and slumped over sideways at the foot of the tree.

“Two for oh, Whitleigh,” Door said. “I think my strategy’s doing just fine.”

Blair rolled her eyes at Door and recalled her pansage. “Like I said, _Hornbeam_ : don’t get cocky.”

When she threw out her third poké ball, Door wasn’t completely surprised to see that she had chosen Wilbur. The pig grunted and flexed low, straining his arms to show off his muscles. Door opened her mouth to summon Jack forward, but before she could say a word, Blair held up a hand.

“Uh, before we get started on round three, how about answering a question?” Blair asked.

Door smirked and crossed her arms. “Y’know, trainers don’t just stop in the middle of a battle to chat with their opponents.”

Blair rolled her eyes. “Despite the actions of _some_ people, I know that. But it’s going to eat at me if I don’t ask. Why didn’t you take Antares yourself? He was a gym pokémon, wasn’t he? And given the Icirrus Gym and your current lineup, you could use a fire-type on your side.”

“Is that all?” Door asked. “That’s easy. See, back when I started training, I hated fauxkémon. And Antares listens to Geist, so I figured why not? Let him keep it. It’d be easier on my conscience if I ditched him with something he could use to defend himself, anyway.”

Geist cleared his throat.

“Jesus, Geist, I’m just kidding!” Door dramatically rolled her head back to look at her Companion. “You’ve got a tracker set up on my poké balls anyway.”

With his eyebrows furrowed at her, Geist held up a hand and swept it in front of him, palm side up, in the universal gesture of incredulousness.

Meanwhile, Blair hid a chuckle behind her hand. “You know, sometimes, I wish Opal could respond like that. She’s good at emulating emotions, but she can’t hold conversations the way Geist can.”

As if to illustrate her point, Opal leaned forward, hands clasped behind the small of her back and a wide smile on her face. Door had to admit Blair had a point. At the start of her journey, when Door had first set eyes on the Companion after her father had modified, she thought Opal looked strikingly human. After all, she had gone from blank slate to smiling and mimicking all kinds of other emotions. But after having spent time with Geist, Door could see Opal for what she actually was: a Companion who was just slightly better at emoting than most commercial units. Geist? Geist was something else entirely.

Clearing her own throat, Door shoved away the uncomfortable thoughts playing in her head and signalled for Jack to step forward. With a loud, happy bark, Jack trotted forward and took his place on the field. Wilbur smirked and grunted, then shifted on his hooves to strike pose after pose: one arm up and the other down, then both arms up and barrel chest out, then one hoof on one bicep while the other hoof curled towards his ears. He winked at the dewott, and Jack, just as excited to see the pig, whipped out both scalchops and twirled them around his claws until he grasped their handles. To Door, it was almost like watching two old friends reunite after years—which, given the fact that Jack and Wilbur were part of the same set of starters, could very well have been true.

“Wilbur, Rollout!” Blair shouted. “Hey, question, Door. Is Needles real or fake?”

Jack unsheathed both his scalchops, and as he rushed forward, water swirled around his blades. Snorting at the sight of him, Wilbur leapt into the air, curled into a ball, and hit the ground spinning. Blair’s pignite drove himself around Door’s dewott, drawing circles in the forest floor as Jack stopped short and stared. Jack chattered softly, his head swinging from side to side in an effort to figure out how to strike a moving target with his blades.

“Real,” Door finally replied. “Why?”

“So out of six pokémon, two are faux and four are real,” Blair continued.

Door narrowed her eyes at the circle Wilbur was drawing. “Blair, if you’re trying to distract me so Wilbur can gain momentum for Rollout—”

“Chill out,” Blair said, holding up a hand. “I’m just saying … it’s odd that you’re focusing all your training on the real pokémon. You must have caught a lot more fauxkémon than just two, after all. So, question: if you hated them before, how do you feel now?”

Door hesitated. She didn’t even realize that her team was that imbalanced. How did that even happen? Granted, the two fauxkémon she could have relied upon had died, but she definitely had more pokémon to choose from.

Frowning, she extended her hand.

“Jack, get above him and use Water Pulse!” she ordered.

With a grateful chatter, Jack leapt into the air and crossed his scalchops. The water that had formed around them for Razor Shell instead pooled into an orb that shot down, just a hair in front of Wilbur. The pignite squealed but plowed straight into the orb of water. He flailed within its waves, and as Jack gracefully landed on his feet, Wilbur crashed onto his back. To Door’s surprise, Blair immediately recalled him into his poké ball.

“So?” Blair said, clipping the ball to her belt again. “What’s up?”

Door shrugged. “I dunno. I wasn’t even thinking about which one was real and which wasn’t when I picked out my team. It just kinda … happened.”

Blair unclipped her final poké ball. “Okay, but do you still hate fauxkémon?”

Door frowned. “Not really. I mean…” She looked away. “Sure, I used to find them weird and a little creepy, but the longer I’ve been spending out here, the less I’m thinking about that. I even think some of them are a little cute, like Antares and Tarzan.”

With a soft snort, Blair expanded her final poké ball. “Thanks. I’ll tell him you said that.”

At that, Door’s expression softened, shifting into a small, uncertain smile. “But it’s not just that, either. You know, I _did_ have a couple of fauxkémon on my team before I met up with you—obviously more than I’ve got now—but they both died. When the first one died, I didn’t really feel anything. I just kept thinking he could be replaced. But then, the other day, my second one died, and I just got so _angry_ I had Jack, Knives, and Storm gang up on the pokémon that killed him.”

Blair stopped. She held her musharna’s poké ball aloft, but she didn’t throw it. Instead, she stared at Door with an unreadable expression. It wasn’t cold, but it was distant and deep, as if Blair was looking into Door’s head and reading everything in it.

“What were their names?” Blair asked.

Door sniffed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other in discomfort. “The first one was Scout. He was the patrat who left that scar on Wilbur’s leg. He evolved into a watchog not too long after that, but then he … kinda went head-first into a boulder during my second gym battle.”

“What about the other one?”

Door let her eyes trail upwards until she locked gazes with Blair again.

“Boomer,” she said. “Darumaka. The jerk had a zebstrika that was way too powerful for him.”

Blair let her arm drop. “Door … I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Fauxkémon can’t really feel pain, right?” With a deep breath, she motioned behind her. “Anyway, Red. How about you give this one a shot?”

Sheathing his scalchops, Jack flipped around in the air and darted behind Door on all fours. Above him, his yamask partner glided forward, seemingly ambivalent to his trainer’s request. Red’s movements were slow, and his expression was blank, as if, after having watched all three of the previous matches, he couldn’t care one way or the other about being on the field. Door frowned. Up until now, she was hoping that the pokédex entry for yamask was only an exaggeration—folklore and nothing much more. Still, that was the whole point of having him watch: allowing him to decide whether or not he wanted to participate, just in case the entry was true. Because ever since she had found out about what Red really was, ever since she knew for certain that he wasn’t just some fabricated spirit but instead a real pokémon that might have been a real person at one point, all of a sudden, she felt like she needed to be _careful_.

But then again, that wasn’t to say she wasn’t going to be careful already. Thoughts of Boomer frying from the inside out and Scout with a smashed-in head floated through her mind. Sure, they were fauxkémon—just mass-produced toys—but the point was she didn’t want to lose anyone else. She didn’t want to lose another Boomer.

“Yo!” she called out. “You gonna throw your musharna in or what?”

“Huh?” Blair lifted her head and blinked. “Oh. Y-yeah. Alice, let’s go!”

Toss. Pop. Flash. By that point in her journey, Door was used to watching someone else’s poké ball open. Granted, she had grown up watching battles on TV, but it was different to watch a poké ball open on the field. Different to see an opponent materialize in front of her.

And there she was, Blair’s final pokémon: the almost spherical blob of pink and purple that curled up and slept in mid-air. A plume of sweet-smelling, pink smoke billowed out of a spot on Alice’s head and filled the forest clearing with a rose-colored haze that smelled faintly of peach blossoms.

“By the way, never got to compliment you on your musharna,” Door said, her grin returning at last. “She looks pretty strong. Is she real or fake?”

“Thanks!” Blair replied with a smirk. “She’s real! Nabbed her in the Dreamyard, just after I’d earned my first badge. But make no mistake, Door. I’ve been training her as much as the rest of my team, and the fact that she could probably floor you is only a coincidence, not a trait of every real pokémon.”

Door scoffed. “Floor me? We’ll see about that! Red, use Will-O-Wisp!”

“Nice try, Door,” Blair responded. “Alice, Hypnosis!”

As Alice’s eyes lit up in a psychedelic array of rainbow colors, Red stiffened, and ghostly purple fire erupted from his skin. The flames whirled around him, blocking his view of Alice until they spun out and separated into a rain of fiery orbs. Each orb rushed at Alice and phased through her skin as if she wasn’t there, but as they passed, she convulsed and moaned, her eyes snapping shut and cutting off her Hypnosis. Burns and blisters bubbled across her rubbery skin long after the violet fire had touched her, and she writhed in midair.

“Perfect,” Door said. “Red, follow up with Hex!”

At her words, Red’s eyes flashed purple, and a crimson glow ebbed from his irises. Violet fire erupted from his face as he locked eyes with the trembling musharna in front of him. Her body began to glow with a dark pink aura, and her writhing and trembling ceased altogether. Suddenly, she was propelled into the ground, then dragged closer to Red, lifted into the air, and slammed into the ground again. At the second strike, the light around her dissipated, and Alice uncurled herself enough to let her stubby, trunk-like legs move. Each one pushed against the ground until she stood, trembling, on all fours. Her smoke took on a slightly gray tinge, and between that sickly color and the sight of a musharna standing, Door couldn’t help but feel like everything about Alice was _wrong_.

But then, Alice did the one thing Door didn’t expect her to do: she shook off the grayish smoke, shoved against the ground, and shot back into the air to float directly in front of Red.

“That’s my girl!” Blair exclaimed.

Door smiled. “Wow. Alice is just as tough as Knives.”

Blair flexed one arm and placed her hand on her bicep, just like her pignite had for Jack moments ago. “What can I say? They make them tough in the Dreamyard! In fact … Alice, use Hypnosis!”

Alice’s eyes flashed again, but this time, her move caught Red off-guard. His eyes widened, and for the first time, Door saw an expression on his face: abject fear. He flinched and fluttered in the air, struggling to fight the oncoming wave of exhaustion, but Alice was resolute in maintaining eye contact with him. Thus, despite all his efforts in trying to stay awake, Red’s eyes finally slid shut, and he began drifting towards the ground like a deflating balloon.

Door cursed but then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Red! Get up!”

“I’ve got you now!” Blair exclaimed. “Alice, Psybeam!”

The transition from Hypnosis to Psybeam was swift: the psychedelic flashes in Alice’s eyes shot out of her face like a bolt of lightning, crack of thunder and all. And just like lighting, it split the air and struck Red’s body in a millisecond, and with a bang, it exploded.

Or, more accurately, it burst through Red’s body, and _Red’s body_ exploded in a puff of pink smoke. His mask dropped to the ground, flashing gold in the sunlight as it went. It bounced once on the ground and rolled to a stop in the very center of the field, and there, everything stopped.

No one said a word. No one moved. Even Alice looked horrified at what had happened. And at first, Door wasn’t sure what she was feeling or looking at or anything at all. Her body simply felt cold, and the edges of her vision began to grow white and hazy. She could see Blair cover her mouth with her hands and mutter something, but it took a second of that muttering for Door to realize she was saying “oh no” and “I’m sorry” over and over again in a muddled mess of words.

Finally, Door could breathe again, but her breathing wasn’t even. It was quick and deep, and she felt her head swim. The feeling only grew worse as she half-turned to face her Companion.

“G-Geist?” she rasped. “What … what happened? I don’t … Red…”

He held up a hand to silence her. His face was serious and grim, but it wasn’t at all panicked like Blair’s was. Rather, it was as if he had expected this to happen. He didn’t say anything as he strode forward, passing Door to approach the mask on the forest floor. Stooping down, he picked it up, turned it over, and examined its back. Then, he reached out, palm up, fingers outstretched to Door.

“Give me his poké ball,” he said.

“W-what?” she whispered.

He tilted the mask towards her so she could see its back. Glancing down, Door only saw smooth gold, save for a tiny wisp of black attached to a point between the eyes.

“See that?” he asked. “That is Red. The attack took quite a lot out of him, but the thing is, Door, you can’t kill something that’s already dead.” He turned the mask so the wisp faced the sky. “Do you remember what happened to that snivy you had defeated in Amanita’s laboratory? Pokémon created from dream smoke—as Red apparently was—are still made of dream smoke. They need to spend quite a bit of time on this plane of existence to stabilize and build proper bodies. If that process is interrupted, they’re not exactly _killed_ but rather … unsummoned, in a way. Or, well. For all intents and purposes, they’re killed, but they don’t leave anything behind. They’re simply excised to the Dream World.” He looked at her. “However, in Red’s case, most of his body has crossed over, but part of him is still here. He may be able to regenerate on his own if he has enough will to do so, but it will take some time. If we put him inside his poké ball, there’s a chance that a pokémon center’s healing machines will help speed up the process, and in any case, the rest will do him some good.”

She shoved Red’s poké ball into Geist’s hand. “Take him.”

He held the ball up to what was left of Red and drew the mask and wisp into its core. “It may be a few weeks for him to recover, Door. Perhaps a couple of months at the most. I’m sorry that you’ll be down to five pokémon in the meantime, but—”

“No, I mean _take him_.”

Geist looked at her curiously.

“Register him to you—or Amanita or whoever Antares is registered to,” she said. “Just get him off my team.”

“Door,” Geist began, “don’t you think you’re being a little unfair—”

She clutched at her head with one hand. “I’m not being unfair! I don’t want him to die!”

Geist and Blair both studied her for a moment. Then, Geist shrugged and tossed the ball into the air. When the orb hit its peak, he opened his palm and bathed it in a weak light. It bobbed above his hand for a few seconds before the light cut out, letting it drop into his palm.

“Done,” he said. “But I must say, Door, as I’ve told you a moment ago, Red can’t exactly _die_. He can—”

“I want Prongs,” she said, holding out her hand.

Sighing, Geist pocketed Red’s poké ball and held his hand back up. The same light he had used to suspend Red’s ball in the air appeared, and this time, another ball emerged from it. When this dropped into his palm, he immediately pressed it into Door’s.

“Door,” Geist said.

“Don’t,” she replied.

Blair stepped forward. “I … Door. Listen. I-I didn’t mean to—”

She shook her head. “I know you didn’t. It was an accident.”

Blair shut her mouth and took a step back. She glanced at Alice, then fumbled with her ball and recalled her musharna. Once her pokémon was off the field, she pressed the ball to her chest and gave Door a concerned look.

“Door,” Geist said. “Are you all right? Talk to us.”

He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, but she turned away.

“Hey,” she said. “Is it true … you know. That yamask are the souls of dead people?”

Geist held his hand up, fingers curled towards Door. “Well … that depends on whom you ask. There hasn’t been any definitive proof of that, but … personally, I think so.”

Door cringed. At that, Geist stiffened, then moved until he stood in front of her. Reaching down, he gently pushed her chin up so he would look at her.

“However, if that’s true—and given the fact that there is still something left of Red, I’m convinced that it is—then it means that yamask quite literally never really leave you. Although Red has only been with us a short time, I can tell you were trying to befriend him. Was that because you believe he was human once too?”

Door didn’t respond. She only twitched a corner of her mouth into a brief half-smile as she tore her eyes away from Geist’s. He straightened up and put his hands on his hips.

“It’s wonderful to see you care so much about him,” he said. “And about Boomer, for that matter. But that’s what makes a pokémon journey worthwhile, isn’t it? You start off having preconceived notions of adventures and so forth, but the longer you spend with your pokémon, the more you begin to realize there is so much more to a journey than that.” He leveled his eyes with hers again. “For that reason, it’s good to mourn for your pokémon, whether they’re real or fake. That’s what makes you human, and speaking as a Companion, that’s what makes your kind so fascinating. It’s okay to feel what you feel—beautiful, even.”

Door looked away again, but this time, she didn’t give Geist a ghost of a smile. She gave him a wistful one, one that lingered on her face. Then, with a deep breath, she turned and walked to Blair, then threw her arms around the other girl.

“I’m not angry,” she said. “Don’t blame yourself.”

She pulled away and started into the forest. She really didn’t know why; she just didn’t feel like standing in one place anymore. After a half a minute, she became aware of the sounds of Needles rolling behind her and of Jack huffing and trotting along. A full minute after that, she was aware of a heavier set of footsteps joining her pokémon’s. She waited to say anything until almost ten minutes later, when she was sure that no one else was joining them … and that Blair was out of earshot.

“Blair and Opal?” she asked.

“Opal is comforting Blair,” Geist replied. “She realizes you’re not angry at her, but she needs a moment.”

Door nodded and kept her eyes steady on the path ahead. “I’m trying not to freak out in front of her.”

“Do you want to … ‘freak out’?”

She swung herself around to face her pokémon and Companion. All three of them stopped short to listen.

“He was human!” she exclaimed. “And I let him get hurt! What kind of person does that make me?!”

Geist’s shoulders sagged. “Human.”

She stiffened. “How can you be so calm?! Weren’t you the one getting on my case after Scout died?! And now … now that there’re real consequences … he could’ve _died_ , Geist!”

“Door.”

He stopped short, his mouth clamping shut. Then, heaving his shoulders, he strode forward and pulled Door into a tight hug. She didn’t reciprocate; her arms merely dangled at her sides as she let him hug her.

“Red is still alive,” he said. “But even then, that’s not the point right now, is it? I think I know what you’re trying to say. You’re afraid of what will happen if you make a mistake. And Door, I need to tell you that it’s okay to mourn, but it’s not okay to be too afraid to act. Yes, there is a possibility that Red was once human, and yes, it’s true that the battle hurt him, and yes, you should always feel something towards those you hurt. What you cannot do is fall into the trap of self-blame and loathing. The past cannot be changed. You must move forward and work to be stronger so that you can lead your team wisely. Never forget, either, that they’re there for you—and that Blair, Opal, and I are here for you. We will never judge you if you falter or if you need to talk to someone. Do you understand everything I’m telling you right now?”

Door sniffled. “How do you do it?”

Geist hesitated. He pulled away and shifted his hands onto her shoulders, and as he did so, he looked into her eyes.

“Do what?” he asked.

She wiped at her eyes. She couldn’t help it. They had started to mist, despite herself.

“How are you just so … goddamn perfect?” she asked. “I just can’t do it, you know? Every single time something like this happens, I’m always a mess, but you know what to say and how to feel and stupid stuff like that.”

Geist bobbed his head. “Well … three things. First off, you’re a teenager. You’re supposed to be a mess. Second, I’m a Companion. I’m programmed that way. And third…” He smirked and brushed away one of her tears with the back of his index finger. “You’re not _that_ much of a mess.”

Door batted his arm away. “Thanks. I think. Not sure about the teenager comment.”

“Consider it rescinded,” Geist replied. “So. How are you doing?”

“I’ll be all right.” She rubbed the back of a hand against her eyes. “I just needed to calm down before I did something stupid with Blair. That’s all.”

“With Blair?” Geist asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“You know. Go all … ragey on her.” Door hugged herself and shifted her eyes away.

Geist chuckled. “I see.” Then, his expression grew serious. “Oh. _I see._ ”

“What?”

He turned away. “Nothing. In any case, Door, we’d better double back. We’re getting far too close to Chargestone Cave for my liking.”

Door sneered at his back. “Just for the record, I don’t have a crush on Blair.”

“I never said you did, but if you’d like to make a confession, Companions are designed not to judge their users,” Geist responded.

“In any case,” Door said roughly, “what’s up with Chargestone Cave anyway? Why’d Roland’s Companion tell us not to go there?”

Geist summoned his map and began charting a route away from a tiny pin labeled “Chargestone Cave.” Door stared at it, feeling all the confusion and negativity that had been flooding her moments ago slowly ebb away.

“Chargestone Cave,” Geist said, “is strictly an off-limits zone. No exceptions.”

“But why?” Door asked. “I mean, it’s the shortest route to Mistralton City, right?”

“Technically,” Geist agreed. “And technically, the terrain isn’t dangerous to humans.”

Door wrinkled her nose. “So why’s it off-limits?”

“Because it’s dangerous to Companions and fauxkémon.” Geist looked at her. “Door, we’re computers. Sensitive ones at that, especially older Companions like me. Chargestone Cave, meanwhile, is world-famous for its highly magnetic rocks. The magnetic fields of the rock walls are so strong they can suspend the cave system’s famous iron-rich boulders in mid-air. Many of those boulders are at least one ton of solid rock, and each boulder contains high levels of magnetite. To a human, that’s nothing, but to a Companion, even a slight brush with just one of these boulders or even the rock walls themselves could wipe our cores instantly. Even fauxkémon have trouble with prolonged exposure, save for electric-types, ground-types, and the naturally magnetic sort of steel-types.”

“Oh,” Door said.

“Oh,” Geist repeated. He looked back at his map. “Moreover, while it’s true that some parts of me can be replaced, other parts cannot. I’ve never heard of an LFA core, so I would rather not know what would happen if mine were to be exposed to a high-powered magnet.”

Door nodded, but her attention was no longer on Geist. She had already understood why they needed to avoid the cave; it was just a matter of waiting for him to lead the way back. So instead, she let her eyes wander to her pokémon, both of whom were paying more attention to something behind a thick stand of trees a few yards away. Needles rocked onto another set of spikes as the ones atop her shell twitched in agitation.

“So you can likely gather why I’m a bit—Door?”

She held up a hand as her eyes followed her pokémon’s gazes. The four of them waited—human, Companion, dewott, and whirlipede—each perfectly still and quiet.

At last, the thing Jack and Needles were waiting for stepped into the clearing, ears twitching and head bowed. It was another deerling.

“Well,” Door said with a smirk. “What do you say about us getting a little stronger?”

Geist crossed his arms. “Door, I wasn’t being literal.”

“Whatever,” she replied. “Needles, Poison Tail!”

Her whirlipede didn’t need to be told twice. She spun like a tire stuck in mud for a second, then launched herself across the forest floor, driving straight towards the deerling. Her spikes took on a brilliant, violet glow, stronger than the light she had shone in her battle against Prongs and Tarzan. This time, she was putting all her energy into fighting this deerling. Her attack wasn’t just to whittle down or to spar; it was to _destroy_.

The deerling stared at the coming whirlipede for a long while, watching her rush closer and closer. Door almost thought that the attack would land, that the deerling would do nothing but take the strike.

But then, it reared back on its hind legs and lifted its front hooves as high as they could go in the air. The forest sunlight glinted off the mud-spattered black metal shortly before the deerling put them clean through Needles’s shell.

Needles instantly vanished in a billowing cloud of pink smoke. There was nothing left.

Door stood, staring at the deerling for a long while. When she breathed, she could feel the air rattle down her throat. She could feel her hands shake and her fingers go cold. She could sense the entire world vanishing into a tunnel inhabited only by her, the deerling, and the stretch of forest between them. In her ears, she could hear her blood and the distant sound of Geist calling her name.

And then, without even thinking about it, she dashed at the deerling. It turned and leapt out of her reach, and she could swear it smiled as it moved. That thought—regardless of whether or not she had imagined the expression—only fuelled the burning rage inside her.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Hey! Get back here! Get the fuck back here!”

In truth, she had no idea what she would have done if she had caught the thing. Battle it, perhaps—she still had most of her team, and Storm had a type advantage. But mostly, she wasn’t thinking about anything at all except how frustrated she was. About how for the second time that day and the third time that week, one of her pokémon was gone. Only now, she had a target on her hands that she knew she wouldn’t regret hurting, and this time, one of her real pokémon was involved. A real pokémon who by no means would ever come back.

And it was because of this—because of these thoughts roiling in her head and feeding her anger—Door didn’t notice when the forest ended and the craggy foot of a mountain loomed ahead of her.

“Hey!” she screamed.

With that last shout, she dove at the deerling, who once more leapt out of her reach. It bleated at her as its hooves clattered against rock, and without slowing down once, it vanished into the mouth of a cave. Door followed, and it was only when she had crossed into the mouth that a hand reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. She jerked backwards and plowed into Geist’s chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded.

She twisted out of his grasp and turned to see him standing behind her. Jack was clinging to his back, and together, he and Geist were sending a stern glare down at their partner.

“I’m getting that deerling!” she snapped.

“Do you even realize where you’ve gone?!” Geist shouted.

“Why does that even matter?!” she shrieked, gesturing wildly to the interior of the cave. “Did you not see that deerling kill Needles?! Just straight-up kill Needles?!”

“I did, but you need to calm down,” Geist said. “We’re both in grave danger.”

“He’s right, you know.”

At the sound of the third voice, Door finally snapped out of it. She turned slowly to see a gang of ten trainers several feet further into the cave. The one at the front—the one Door guessed was the source of the voice—sat on a rock with a hand stroking the deerling’s head.

A resounding bang filled her ears. Looking behind her, she glanced at the mouth of the cave, only to see a clutch of ferroseed blocking her only exit. Geist stumbled backwards, bringing himself to Door’s side as he let Jack drop to the ground.

“So, welcome to our den,” the deerling’s trainer said. When his guests faced him, he smiled broadly and gestured to the cave with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “These are my friends. We like to lure stupid trainers here and steal their stuff. Hope you don’t mind.”

His nine partners laughed and pulled out sets of poké balls. Door felt her entire body tense in response, but it wasn’t out of fear.

“Now that the introductions are out of the way,” the gang leader said as one of his beefy hands patted his deerling’s flank, “put all your valuables on the ground, and we’ll make this painless. Whadda ya say?”

Door looked at Geist, then back at the man. With a sneer, she pulled out her first poké ball.

—

_> CONCLUSION.txt_  
> Author: Lanette Hamilton  
> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Cassius Cassine.

_████: Project Galatea, summary and review. As you can probably tell, I’m not Lanette, but I hope she’s listening. I’m going to give her this file as soon as I’m done. It’s important that she hears this._

_First and foremost, Lanette? I want to say I forgive you. I know what you’re trying to do, and although I might not agree with it and although your last few tests have yielded … let’s say somewhat less-than-positive results, I know your heart was in the right place. I also know you’re worried about me, and I’m sorry for driving you to this point. I really am. And I wish that someday, I’ll be able to express that properly to you. Until then, I’m begging you. Please stop. We’ll figure something out, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself for anyone’s sake._

_Least of all Halcyon’s. Gods, I wish I hadn’t gotten you involved in that._

_[pause, sigh]_

_Sorry. I’m getting off-track. In total, if we count Melpomene—which I regret to say we probably should, considering she’s moved on to mass-production as well—there are eight possible configurations of Companion. The ninth muse, Polyhymnia, has no true representation according to Lanette, but I beg to differ. If no one minds me saying so on record, Zero-One may possess unique enough qualities to be considered his own class and, thus, the only Polyhymnia in existence. Unfortunately, because I can’t actually make decisions like these on my own, Zero-One is officially classified as a Calliope unit, if only because that series was directly based on his configuration._

_But that’s neither here nor there. The truth of the matter is that Project Galatea was both a phenomenal success and an utter failure. It was a phenomenal success because, after barely three years since Calliope was first released, Companions are a commercial wonder. Astonishingly enough, we’ve received no complaints, no reports of any major issues, not even anything we would need to initiate a mass-recall for. What’s more, everyone loves them. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t see a Thalia on TV or an Erato running errands. I’m told by Professor Gary Oak that over half his students are followed around by a Clio. It’s apparently a little distracting in Celadon University’s already crowded lecture halls, but somehow, they make do._

_On the other hand, it was a failure because neither of us have achieved what was initially the point of Project Galatea. None of the experiments have successfully replicated Zero-One’s unique characteristics, nor have we been able to create a close enough proximity to what he can do. He is, in short, a unique case, and it appears that he will remain as such in the future. Or at least, he will if I can help it._

_I’m sorry, Lanette. I really am. Please don’t hate yourself._

_[end recording]_


	36. Chargestone Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door and Geist...

Air Cutter did nothing.

Or, rather, Air Cutter did _something_ , but not to the ferroseed. It cleared the gang out of the way, including the leader’s deerling. In the confusion, Door, Geist, and Jack ran—not out of the cave but rather _into_. Out of was no longer an option so long as the ferroseed were there, and according to Geist’s maps, unless the gang had tampered with the other end or something else had happened since the establishment of the safe zones, Chargestone Cave was _still_ a shortcut to Mistralton City. The question was, where was the other end?

That and:

“Storm barely did anything! Why didn’t her Air Cutter work?!” Door exclaimed.

“They’re part _steel_ , Door!” Geist spat. “You don’t have a type advantage, and their defenses are far too strong for Storm!”

“Then what do I do?!”

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her roughly along the dark tunnel. “You run!”

Door couldn’t reply, although that was mostly because she was now devoting all of her lung capacity to doing as Geist said. He was faster than she was, so keeping up with him was already a task and a half. But more than that, the air was cold, wet, and smelled strongly of copper, and these three things together stung her throat as she gulped down entire mouthfuls of breath. The skin on her neck and hands prickled as she ran, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the chill, the fear, or the static in the air. Behind her, besides the scraping and slapping of Jack’s paws on rock and the occasional whoosh of Storm’s wings, Door could hear the shouts and heavy footfalls of the gang … and the skittering of something else.

Geist jerked Door forward, and she stumbled but pushed herself into running faster.

“No,” he gasped. “Door! That sound! They’re joltik!”

“Joltik?!” Door shouted.

The tunnel before them lit up with a brilliant, yellow light, and Storm screamed. Door twisted, her heels kicking against the rock even as Geist tried to pull her along. He only succeeded in driving Door into his arms, and as he turned to lift her, he swept her around and—by complete accident—gave her a full view of what was happening.

Behind them, Jack dove forward and passed them completely. Storm, on the other hand, could not move. The walls surrounding her were studded with tiny, yellow puffs of fur, each of which spun fine threads of silk from their mouths. The threads formed a web that wrapped around Storm, holding her in its neon-yellow brilliance as electricity danced along each line and into her body. She twisted and stretched her wings and emitted strangled, choking sounds from her throat, and her trainer could do nothing but watch. At last, the ring of joltik unleashed one last surge of electricity that pulsed down their web and into the tranquill.

The metallic screech she emitted next was not from her voice. It was from the metal in her body twisting all at once under the heat and electrical surge. Her joints and eyes popped all at once, and her limbs danced and rattled at unnatural angles until the surge died down. Storm hung limply in the web until the silk tore, sending her body clattering lifelessly to the ground.

Door shrieked. She felt herself be pulled back as a beam of light flashed over her shoulder. And then, at once, Antares appeared, and the tunnel filled with fire. The joltik screeched and popped, one by one, as their trainers shouted behind them.

Soon, Door and Geist were running again. Door couldn’t remember ever turning around or launching herself back into that mad dash down the claustrophobic pathways of Chargestone Cave, nor did she remember Antares joining Geist. All she could remember were the shouts of the thieves dying down and her protesting legs and lungs.

“Door, send out your pokémon,” Geist ordered. “All of them! Now!”

“S-Storm—” Door rasped.

He cut her off with a glare. His eyes were bright and blue. Later on, Door would look back on this moment and liken that light to a fire.

“Just do it!” he growled.

She didn’t argue. Soon, Huntress, Prongs, and Knives joined Jack behind them. The tunnel filled with the sounds of scuttling again, followed by the flash of neon yellow, signalling the arrival of more joltik. However, when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Prongs leap into the strike and absorb the hit almost effortlessly, allowing his partners to run on ahead. But then a ferroseed dropped from the ceiling, and Prongs reared back, body dancing as something struck him like a rain of bullets from a machine gun. His body flopped backwards, and a volley of Pin Missiles hit the ceiling of the cave. In response, Huntress howled and slammed her paws against the wall, and a rush of boulders collapsed onto the swarm of joltik and ferroseed—Rock Tomb, Door realized. Perhaps courtesy of Blair’s tutoring session back in Driftveil.

It didn’t matter. This was because, all of a sudden, the tunnel ended. Not in a dead end, luckily enough, but rather in a cavern—a proper cavern, with high ceilings and rugged, blue terrain. The rocks here sparkled; Door thought at first it was because of the minerals but then realized quickly afterwards that it was because each of them _literally sparkled_. Every boulder, every rock surface sparked and glittered with electricity, the source of the eerie, blue light that illuminated the chamber.

And there, in that very room, were two things. First, there were the boulders Geist had told Door about, floating lazily in place at random distances from the ground. Second, across the way, across the stadium-sized space, was another hole in the rock wall. This one, however, glowed with the light of the sun.

Door nearly cried at the sight of it.

“Jack! Knives!” Geist snapped. “Get one of the boulders moving towards the tunnel entrance! Hurry!”

Both pokémon barked in unison as they dove towards one of the floating boulders. With a shove, they pushed it forward, digging their paws into the earth as they went. At first, their progress was slow, and with the shouts of the gang down the tunnel, the sight of them working set Door’s nerves on edge. But finally, with one final shove, the boulder sailed quickly across the cave floor and slammed hard into the mouth of the tunnel, jamming itself into the opening.

Geist and Door slowed to a stop and glanced back. The thieves’ shouts had finally reached the boulder, but judging by the scraping and pounding, it would be some time before they worked the stone out.

Taking relief in that, Door sagged against Geist, forcing Antares off his shoulder and onto the cave floor.

“Shit,” Door breathed. She pressed her hand to her forehead and hung her body on the arm Geist wrapped around her. “Mother … motherfucker…”

“Door,” Geist said.

She looked up and squinted at him. There was something wrong with his voice. It was warbling, warping, like there was static interference in it.

“Are you all right?” he continued, seemingly unaware of the defect.

She forced herself to nod, but he studied her, taking in her wide eyes and pale expression.

“I know,” he said, his voice still tinny. “Out of all the areas accessible to trainers, this chamber has the highest concentration of magnetic stone in the system. I’ll be fine so long as we get out of here quickly.”

Door nodded but then stiffened. “Wait. Huntress!”

She twisted in Geist’s arms to see her herdier standing between Knives, Jack, and Antares. Huntress tilted her head, seemingly unaffected by the magnetite.

“Fauxkémon,” Geist said. “They’re made to withstand environmental factors better than Companions can. They have to battle embodiments of them, after all. Huntress should be fine too, so long as her chassis isn’t directly exposed to the magnetic boulders.” He closed his mouth and looked towards the cave exit, but Door could hear his voice box crackle and pop. “The same can’t be said for me, however.”

With a final nod, Door pulled his arm around her shoulders and said, “Then let’s go.”

As they began their shuffle across the chamber to the other side, Geist smiled at his partner.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” he said.

“One, you’re not protesting. Two, it’s the least I could do.” Door steeled herself and steadied her glare straight ahead. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just worry about getting out of here.” He pulled away but kept his hand on her shoulder. “Did you catch your breath?”

Door fumbled for her words but hastily nodded. “Uh … y-yeah. I’m all right.”

“Good.” Geist slid his hand down to her wrist. “Get ready.”

There was an ungodly scraping sound somewhere near the tunnel entrance. Door felt a cold pit open in her stomach, and Geist’s hand tightened a little more around her arm.

“Everyone,” he said, “run when I give the signal!”

There was a pop and a flash of light. Something screeched above them.

“Run!” Geist shouted.

They took only a few steps before a stream of purple fire slammed into the ground between them and the exit. Geist and Door doubled back, and their pokémon stumbled alongside them.

Then, the stream stopped, and a shape fluttered onto a floating boulder just a few meters ahead of them. It blinked large, mostly-white eyes at them a few times, then ruffled its yellow and blue feathers and clicked its oversized beak. The whole thing looked odd—like its proportions were all wrong, as if it was trying to be a bird and succeeding at only resembling a three-year-old’s concept of one. But most importantly, it was like nothing else Door had ever seen.

“Archen,” Geist rasped. “How did _they_ get their hands on an archen fauxkémon?”

“Archen?” Door whispered.

“A fossil pokémon,” her Companion explained. “And, for that matter, limited edition domestic-only fauxkémon—one of the rarest runs possible. Door, be careful. These are extremely aggressive. They’re designed for collectors interested in only the most exclusive and powerful models.”

The archen tilted its head from left to right, examining the human and the Companion with its wide eyes. Door reached over to grasp Geist’s arm. She was about to ask him why a bunch of common thieves would send out something as rare as an archen—especially without a trainer—but the scraping and shouting behind her gave her an answer before she could form her question. They were working the boulder out of the tunnel, which meant Door and Geist only had a short amount of time.

“Jack!” Door shouted. “Water Pulse!”

The dewott barked and unsheathed his scalchops. As he twirled them through the air, water wove around his blades, and when he brought them together in front of his face, it pooled between his scalchops and shot at the archen. His target cocked its head and blinked once more, but it didn’t move, not until the Water Pulse knocked it off its perch. It screeched and whirled within the wave of water before shooting from its surface and taking flight. Without even pausing to recover, the archen rose high into the air, up and up, until it nearly touched the distant ceiling. Abruptly, it turned and dove, wings folded in, beak pointed to Jack, blue light engulfing its body.

Door stiffened. “Jack move!” she screamed. “It’s Acrobatics!”

Jack did not move. He _could_ not move; the archen was far too quick. Jack could only widen his eyes and hold his scalchops in front of him, crossed, in an effort to defend himself.

The archen struck him twice. Once in the front, slamming his scalchops into his chest. And then again after rising a short distance, banking around, and striking him from behind.

It was the strike from behind that did it. Jack’s back bent against the archen’s beak. His eyes opened as far as they could go, and his mouth widened, fanged jaws stretching apart farther than Door had ever seen them part.

In hindsight, Door wouldn’t remember whether or not Jack screamed. He probably did. He had enough time. But that didn’t seem important to Door. Not compared to the sight of Jack, her dewott, her very first pokémon partner, exploding into a cloud of pink smoke.

For some reason, though, she could remember the way his scalchops sounded when they struck the rock floor—a pair of metallic pings as they bounced—shortly before they dissolved into pink smoke too. All that was left was the mystic water Hilda had given him seemingly ages ago, which bounced further than the scalchops and clattered to the ground at Door’s feet.

And then, Door remembered screaming. She remembered Geist dragging her back. She remembered Huntress leaping at the archen, and she remembered the crunch of the archen’s neck between Huntress’s jaws. The next clear memory she had was of Geist’s hand on her wrist and of his voice in her ear.

“Door! The boulder! We have to go!”

Somewhere behind them, the boulder crashed to the ground, and four more lights illuminated the cavern. Door turned and saw Knives’s Grass Knot binding a boldore and Knives herself disappearing underground. She saw Huntress bury a joltik and a ferroseed in Rock Tomb after Rock Tomb, summoned with each step the dog took as she ran after Door and Geist. She saw Knives bursting from the ground to strike a klink and spreading Attract across the surge of sandile, trubbish, watchog, and scraggy that poured from the tunnel. She saw Antares channel fire above the Attract to ward off the humans behind them.

She did not see any sign of where Jack had been, save for the mystic water next to the broken archen. Her eyes fell on the pendant and lingered there, as if it was her only anchor to everything.

“Door, let’s go!” Geist shouted. “Eyes up!”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mystic water. She couldn’t look at her pokémon.

And soon, she couldn’t see. Her eyes stung, and her vision blurred with tears. Her throat felt like it was closing, and for that, she couldn’t speak. She wanted so badly to scream again.

Her foot caught on uneven ground, and she pitched forward. Geist spun and caught her, and for the briefest of moments, she looked up into his face and saw the concerned, scared, deeply _human_ expression in it.

And then, the two of them pitched backwards, right into a floating boulder.

The effects were nearly instant. One moment, Geist had a full mess of emotions playing across his face. The next, he froze. The light in his eyes flickered, then clicked off, leaving behind glass and paint. His mouth formed a straight line, and it seemed as if all the color in his face drained away.

She and Geist spilled to the ground after that, and Door found herself lying on her side, staring straight into a dead-eyed Companion.

With a shaking hand, she reached up to grasp Geist’s shoulder. The commotion of the nearby battle seemed to fade, and all Door could hear was her breathing, the blood rushing through her head, and Geist’s lifeless silence.

It took her a few seconds of breathing before she could find her voice.

“Geist?” she said. Quietly. Uncertainly.

He didn’t respond. Not even to move. She shook his shoulder, but he shifted limply at her touch, as if he was a doll and nothing more.

“Geist?” she whispered. “Geist…?”

She pulled herself closer. Placed her hands on the sides of his face. And broke down sobbing.

Overhead, there was a brilliant flash of blue light. A crack of fire and a deafening roar pierced through Door’s narrowing line of perception and filled her world. The air grew heavy with the stench of copper and burning rubber, and the cavern felt as hot as the sun. Door crawled closer to Geist, her sobbing shifting into screaming as the flames raged above her.

And then, there was a shadow blocking out some of the light. A pair of hands pulled her up, dragged her away from Geist, lifted her into the air, and for the first time in days, she could see N’s face. He looked down at her in concern, then cast a glance to someone else she couldn’t see.

“Rosa! Reshiram!” he called.

“Get her and her pokémon out of here!” Rosa shouted. “Justice and I have got things under control!”

With a nod, N whirled around and broke into a run towards the cave exit. As he ran, Door cast one last glance at the fight. A great, white form—one that seemed to be made of smoke and feathers, glowing in its own light—stood between Rosa and the blue fires Door assumed was what was left of the thieves’ pokémon army. Behind Rosa’s turned back, Knives, Antares, and Huntress ran after N, keeping up with him step for step.

As for Geist, he lay on the ground, still as motionless as Door had left him. A samurott reached down to pull him onto its back, then cast a patient glance towards Rosa, as if waiting for her to finish.

It was that image—of a lifeless Geist on the back of the pokémon Jack could have been someday—that did it for Door. Her next breath shook, and her body trembled violently.

And as N carried her outside, to the edge of Mistralton City, Door cried into his shoulder.

—

_> UNTITLED.txt_  
> Author: Lanette Hamilton  
> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Cassius Cassine.

_[background noise: microphone being placed on a surface]_

_LANETTE: You’re recording?_

_████: Of course I am. We need to get this down. Ah! I should do a timestamp. Right. February 16—forget it._

_LANETTE: What are you—_

_████: Right. Okay. For the recording, some kind of … event happened earlier this week._

_LANETTE: The Entralink collapsed. We were just talking about that._

_████: Right! I didn’t even think that was possible. No one thought that was possible!_

_LANETTE: Because how could a place literally implode like that? Then again, no one understands the nature of that place or its link to Dream World or even what Dream World actually is. I mean, the Fennel sisters tried, but—_

_[pause]_

_LANETTE: Why are you recording?_

_████: Isn’t it obvious? We’re going to do something about it._

_LANETTE: Hold on. What?_

_████: You heard me._

_[background noise: papers rustling, something clattering]_

_LANETTE: [chuckles] You’re crazy. What on Earth could we do about that?_

_████: Don’t give me that. If we don’t do something, Unova will end up just like Orre._

_LANETTE: Don’t you think that’s going a bit overboard?_

_████: What—I don’t mean in terms of population! Although that could very well happen. There’s plenty of archaeological records of ancient civilizations collapsing once its local ecosystem becomes uninhabitable. Historical records, too. Pripyat, for example._

_LANETTE: The Entralink is most certainly not Chernobyl._

_████: We don’t know that! Or, well, it’s unlikely that it’s radioactive. We would have noticed the effects by now if that were the case; it’d be all over the news. The Unovan government is incompetent, but they’re vocal. If something was that badly wrong, everyone would know by now. No, that’s not what’s going on, and it’s not what I mean. Pokémon are dropping dead in the streets, Lanette. That’s what everyone is talking about._

_LANETTE: I’m aware. So, what? How does Halcyon fit into this? We’re not a biological research institute._

_████: No. But we do create technology that might help._

_LANETTE: What? Are you suggesting we branch out into research equipment?_

_████: [laughs] Come on! Think about it. [slowly] Unova will need something to help support the remnants of its ecosystem. Something to fill the now-empty niches until the ecological researchers figure something out. And we create artificial—_

_LANETTE: Life. Oh._

_████: Oh. So? What do you think?_

_LANETTE: It’s an interesting solution._

_████: But feasible, yes? What do you say?_

_[pause]_

_LANETTE: For the record, I know you’re trying to distract me from the Melpomene tests._

_[pause]_

_████: Oh. What gave it away?_

_LANETTE: Because I know you._

_████: Oh. Lanette. [lowers the volume of ███ voice] I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m not doing this because I’m trying to discourage you. I’m just—_

_LANETTE: Worried about me. I know. And I want to say thank you. It means a lot._

_████: Lanette, I—_

_LANETTE: [lower] It’s okay. It’s okay. [at normal volume] Let’s do it._

_████: Are you sure?_

_LANETTE: Why not? Let’s make pokémon._

_[end recording]_


	37. Mistralton City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door wakes up.

In the Central Mistralton Pokémon Center, one of the doors to a trainer’s dormitory opened, and Blair poked her head inside.

“Door?”

She received no response, but after a few seconds, she gingerly opened the door wider and slid in anyway.

For the past three days, since she had followed Rosa and N to Mistralton City, it had been more or less the same. She would wake up to a dark dormitory, dress herself in darkness, slip outside as quietly as she could, find breakfast for herself, unplug Opal, care for her own pokémon, care for Door’s pokémon, and then… 

Nothing.

For the past three days, she did nothing. Or, well, she did many things. Explore the city. Read a little book she found in the pocket of Door’s hoodie. Do her research. But she didn’t train (because why would she if she wasn’t a trainer anymore?), and she didn’t push Door to.

And now she was staring at the reason why.

For the past three days, Door Hornbeam hadn’t gotten out of bed.

Door was facing the wall at that point, so whether or not she was awake, Blair couldn’t tell. For that reason, Blair gently set a paper shopping bag on the desk between her bed and Door’s and gingerly sat down next to her friend.

“Hey, Door,” Blair said gently. “How are you doing today?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Blair had no idea what happened three days ago. Rosa had mentioned something about Door being attacked in Chargestone Cave—and Door’s lack of pokémon and Geist’s state seemed to confirm that—but what exactly happened or even why Door was in Chargestone Cave in the first place, Blair didn’t know. She barely understood why _Rosa_ was there, other than to follow up on something about Hilda’s journey.

Blair barely understood _anything_ about what was going on, to be honest. But she was learning in her free time. Slowly.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Blair leaned forward and said, “Not much happened today. Geist needs some kind of new part I never heard of, and apparently, only your dad can install it. He’s supposed to come in later on today. Dr. Fennel’s still coming because she’s his primary user, like I said yesterday. It’ll be nice to see Dr. Fennel again. She was nice.”

She paused. Waited for a response she wasn’t going to get. Hesitantly, she reached out for Door’s shoulder, but then, she stopped and drew her hand back into her lap.

“The tech’s great, though,” she continued. “She managed to find a way to tap into a backup or something? Of Geist, I mean. Apparently, he’s been saving backups every few seconds to the cloud. He won’t lose anything when he’s fixed—maybe a few seconds just before he went offline. You can even talk to him through the AI communication system if you want. They … they wouldn’t let me do that. Because, um. I’m not his registered user. Stupid rule, right?”

She paused again. Sank her shoulders lower.

“Knives and Huntress are okay. They’re happy. I don’t think they really get what happened, but they’re worried about you.” Blair lowered her voice. “I’m worried about you too.”

More silence. Blair watched Door lay there. Just lay there.

She sighed and stood up, moving to the bag on the desk. Carefully, she drew a bottle from within it and set it on the desk.

“I got you a fresh set of clothes and a towel because I couldn’t get your stuff from the item storage system. And on my way back, I found one of my favorite stores in town,” she said. Her fingers traced down the bottle. “Back when I was in Trainer’s School, sometimes, I’d go through a rough time. Homesickness. A couple of kids being jerks. That sort of thing. So I’d take a shower. A long, hot one. And I’d cry. It’s a lot easier to let it all out when you’ve got the shower going, you know?” She took a breath. “Eventually, I started picking up these scented soaps. Anything to make me a little happier at the end. And this is my favorite one. It smells like lemons, but not like the stuff you use to clean a bathroom or anything. Kinda like … lemon sorbet. It reminds me of summer, actually. Summer back home, I mean.”

She hesitated, not to listen to Door’s silence this time but instead as if to decide whether or not she wanted to tell this part of the story.

But then, she did.

“Door … I don’t think I ever really talked about myself. And … I guess I’m sorry about that. I really do want to be your friend, and I’m sorry for kind of shoehorning myself into all of this and for the way I acted when we met. And also for…”

Her voice trailed off for a moment, but the silence said enough. It spoke volumes about Needles and Red and Door running off to Chargestone Cave after their battle. Blair pressed her lips together and swallowed.

“I-I’m from Aspertia City,” she said. “Way out in the suburbs. I lived there with my parents. Just them, really; I don’t have any older siblings. But I didn’t really grow up alone or anything. You see … I have cousins. Older ones. My dad has a huge family, and my mom … well, her older brother was married to Aunt Bianca, so while I didn’t see them every day, for every holiday, the entire family would gather together in Nuvema. And being the baby of the family, all of my cousins went out of their way to keep an eye on me. It was a little embarrassing, growing up like that, but it was safe.”

Blair walked to the other bed, trailing her fingertips down the bottle and across the desk as she went. Then, pulling her hand away, she sat down on the edge of her bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and leveled her eyes onto Door. Door hadn’t moved an inch all that time.

“My mom wasn’t a big deal as a trainer, but her brother almost was. He was the one who helped Rosa Alvarado take down Team Plasma the second time they appeared in Unova,” Blair explained. “When I was little, I used to love those times when my parents would take me to see Uncle Hugh and Aunt Bianca because Uncle Hugh always had these amazing stories about fighting Plasma with Rosa or about his time as a police officer in Nuvema or even a little bit about the times he would work with Rosa and the International Police to track down some new criminal organization. Uncle Hugh was always so brave and strong, and he always fought for truth and justice, and Rosa? Rosa was even more of that. Rosa was smart, level-headed, and just so _cool_ according to Uncle Hugh. So I grew up idolizing her, and I swore one day I would be just as strong as Uncle Hugh and just as tough and smart as Rosa Alvarado.” 

She paused. Cracked a small smile. 

“You know, though … when she brought you in and told me what happened, I couldn’t say a thing. I just sort of … froze.” Her hand swirled by her head. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I get that way when I’m nervous. I always did.”

She tightened her arms around her knees.

“That’s the thing, really,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t just a terrible trainer back when I was in Trainer’s School. I was…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to complain. I mean, I don’t know much about you, but I’ve read up on you. What I could, anyway. You were raised in Nuvema, right? Your parents were always careful about keeping you away from the media and stuff. Or that’s what your mom said in an interview once. I can’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been like.” She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s just … like I said, I-I don’t want you to think I’m just whining. But it’s just that … I grew up with my cousins. They watched out for me. You know. Because I was the baby. And I guess no one really took me seriously back then. So when I told them I wanted to be a trainer, of course they said I could. They gave me Toto, but Toto … I love her, but she’s literally a toy. She wasn’t designed for battle. And I think they knew that too. I guess they just assumed I’d give up after a while. It sucks, knowing no one believes in you.”

Blair smirked and pressed her nose into her knees. She kept her eyes on Door, but they misted a little. Stung. Blurred her vision of the other girl in the darkness.

“I wish I could’ve shown them, but I didn’t,” she said. “I didn’t get far, no matter what I did. When I was ten, I got to Floccesy City before a trainer beat up Toto so badly I had to go back. When I was eleven, I only got as far as Route 19 before a purrloin finished her off. And when I was twelve, I managed to get all the way to Virbank, but I couldn’t get past the gym leader there.”

She turned her head and pressed her cheek into her knees. By then, she felt the tears wet the edges of her eyes, so she rubbed them with the back of her hand. But she didn’t sniffle. She didn’t cry. Not really. She only felt her voice ball up in the back of her throat.

“One of our family friends used to be the gym leader of Aspertia before he retired to teach,” she said. “Cheren. Well, Mom told Cheren about how much trouble I was having, and, I don’t know. He watched the video of my battle against Roxie, and I guess he saw something in it because he personally wrote the letter of recommendation that got me into Trainer’s School.”

Blair smiled wryly and shook her head.

“But man, Door. I sucked. You were right, from the very start. I couldn’t get the basics down. I couldn’t even catch a patrat if they asked me to. I just … couldn’t do it. But Cheren went through so much trouble, and Mom was completely behind me. I couldn’t just _fail_. So … I ran away. And I found you.”

She looked up. Cautiously, she unfolded her legs and put her feet on the floor. She rose, slowly, hesitantly, as if waiting for Door to do _something_. But all the girl responded with was silence. Door didn’t move as Blair shuffled across the room. She didn’t move as Blair leaned down. She didn’t even flinch when Blair sat at the edge and wrapped her arms around Door’s body, or leaned in to rest her cheek on her shoulder in an awkward hug.

“That’s why I acted the way I did. I wanted to impress you,” she said. “I don’t know why. You were the first trainer I saw, so I wanted things to be different. I wanted to make someone think I was strong. And that was stupid, and I’m sorry. And I know that now because … you’re strong. I watched all your gym battles, you know. Except the one against Sophia because that one wasn’t recorded, apparently. But the one against Melissa? The one against Sage? Those were _incredible_. And this one against Elesa too. The moment I read that you were going to battle her, I spent my allowance on a ticket, and it was worth it. You were incredible, you know. You and Knives and Geist. And all those other battles against Team Matrix? Those were incredible too. You’re always so confident when you battle, and even when you’re having trouble, somehow, you’re strong enough to push through anyway. You’re like Hilda, I think. Just … wild emotion yet somehow … it works.”

She squeezed Door gently.

“I don’t know if I’m making sense. I think what I’m trying to say is no matter what’s going on, I … I think you’re amazing. And I want to get to know you,” she said. “I remember how hard you tried to cheer me up in Dr. Fennel’s. I think about that a lot, you know. And I’ve been thinking about what you said to Roland too, back in Driftveil. And I think … I think maybe even if I can’t be a trainer, and even if I can’t really fight alongside you, I still want to help you somehow.”

She pulled herself up but rested her hand on Door’s shoulder.

“So … you’re not alone, okay? If you want to talk, I’ll be here. And if you need anything, I’ll do my best.”

Blair stood at that point and looked down on Door. She rested her fingertips on the girl and waited, counting the seconds in her head. But two minutes passed, and Door didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge Blair.

So with a sigh, Blair walked away, back to the room’s door. She opened it and slipped halfway out, then cast a glance back into the room. Looking at Door, she couldn’t help but think the girl looked still. Not peaceful. Still. Like restlessness and tension and fear all frozen together. And Blair couldn’t tell whether Door was asleep or awake, but either way, she knew she wasn’t resting.

And for some reason, that bothered Blair more than anything else. It had bothered Blair for the past three days, and maybe it even bothered Blair before they had even arrived in Mistralton. There was just something about Door Hornbeam that got under Blair Whitleigh’s skin. Something that drew her in and made her think about Door nonstop. Made her _worry_ about Door nonstop.

Blair frowned. No. She knew why. It was a bunch of selfish whys.

Because for once, someone needed her. For once, someone was interested in her as a friend. For once, someone believed she could do something. For once, she wanted to know more about a person.

And for once, a human being outside of her family made her feel excited to be alive.

And now, looking over at Door, lying there on the bed, Blair mentally begged Reshiram and Zekrom that she could help Door feel excited to be alive too.

“Good night, Door,” she said.

She slipped out and closed the door gently behind her.

—

Shortly afterwards, the door opened again, but this time, Blair wasn’t the one who slipped in. Instead, it was Knives, padding quietly across the room, cooing softly with every step. When she reached the bed, she stopped and tilted her head at Door. Twitching her ears, she turned to the desk and waddled to it, reaching up for the bottle Blair had left. She grasped it in her paws, popped it open, and sniffed gingerly at it, then tilted her head once more.

Abruptly, she perked up and cried softly, and for the first time in hours, Door moved. She flinched, rustling the sheets around her and drawing her audino’s attention. Knives’s smile faded as she cooed inquisitively and leaned towards her trainer, and for a long moment, the two of them stayed there—Door lying in a tight ball, and Knives leaning over her, studying her.

And then, Knives snatched her by the shoulder, yanked her out of bed, and forced her to stand up.

Door could have resisted. She might have a tiny bit, but even now, she barely put any energy or effort into her movements. It was easier to stand at the audino’s guidance than to collapse onto the floor, than to fight back, than to do anything else. Knives didn’t seem to notice. The audino was too busy pulling the clothes and towel Blair had bought from the paper bag and shoving them into Door’s hands. Door took them and stared straight ahead, past the audino, even as Knives hummed softly and took her by the wrist.

Knives guided her out: out of the room, through the dormitories, into a bathroom, and to the communal shower stalls. Gently, Knives pushed Door into the stall and sat her down on a small bench inside. She pulled off Door’s clothes, scratching her trainer a little with her claws as she did so, but Door didn’t even flinch. The girl didn’t even flinch as Knives turned on the shower, dousing them both in water that was ice-cold at first but then, very quickly, warm and then steaming.

With deft claws, Knives popped open the cap to the bottle and poured a little soap into one paw. She hummed while she worked it into a lather using her soft fur, and as she began to work on her trainer’s hair, the stall filled with the scent of lemon candy and vanilla.

The soft suds trickled down Door’s face, and Knives continued down to her partner’s shoulders. Carefully. Slowly. She began to wash away the sticky, grimy mix of three-days-old sweat and dust from Chargestone Cave.

And beneath her paws, Door shook with a sob.

Knives was a good pokémon. She prided herself in that. So as her trainer bent over and cried into her knees, Knives patted her on the back and continued to work with a gentle, reassuring coo.

She was a good pokémon. Her trainer was a good trainer. And nothing would change that, in her opinion.

—

At the entrance to the dormitory block, Door hesitated. She pressed her back against the wall to let trainers pass by, and every time the door swung open, she peered into the common area. She could see Blair across the way, busy at one of the cafe tables with a tablet in front of her and Opal seated across from her. And for some reason, the sight of Blair made Door stop, made her think, made her afraid to cross that threshold.

Those past three days were both a blur and not a blur to Door. They were a series of light and dark patches—moments when she recalled lying in bed in a dark room or lying in bed in a light one. She remembered trying to eat stale sandwiches or cold soup sometimes, but she couldn’t remember who brought it.

But most of all, she remembered Blair. Not just the time Blair told her a lot about herself all at once but also the times Blair didn’t say anything and the times Blair said only a little bit. “Everything’s going to be okay.” “We’ll be here whenever you’re ready.” “You didn’t do anything wrong.” “We believe in you.” Door heard those words and thought about those words, but they mixed together with all the other thoughts Door had those days. _It’s your fault Jack is dead. It’s your fault Geist is broken. You didn’t even try to get to know them. You used them. If Blair knew what you really are, she wouldn’t say any of those things. You don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve anyone._

And even now, after Knives made her crawl out of bed and get a shower—how pathetic is that?—she couldn’t stop thinking about that last one. If Blair only knew her, she wouldn’t say half the things she did. If Blair only knew her. _If Blair only knew her._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of something brushing against her hand. She looked down to see Knives, smiling softly, looking at her as if she made the sun rise every day. Knives’s paw was in her hand, claws curled tightly around her middle three fingers. The audino walked, pulling at Door until her trainer followed, out the door, across the pokémon center, to the table where Blair and Opal sat. And Blair looked up, and Door’s heart froze.

“Door!” Blair gasped. “You’re awake!”

Door flicked her eyes to the table. Her lips parted slightly, and an “um” tumbled out.

And then, Blair practically launched herself out of her seat and threw her arms around Door.

_You don’t deserve anyone._

“I’m happy for you,” Blair mumbled into Door’s shoulder. “You looked bad.”

Door didn’t reciprocate the hug. Instead, she took a shaking breath and said her first full sentence in three days. “Jack’s gone.”

She felt Blair sag against her body. One of Blair’s arms pulled away, and she could feel the girl’s hand worm into a pocket by her waist.

“I know,” Blair said softly. “Here. Rosa asked me to give this to you.”

Blair pressed an object into Door’s palm. Door could feel the warm, smooth, teardrop shape of Jack’s mystic water against her skin, and she closed her fist around it tightly, as if holding onto it would bring him back.

“I’m sorry, Door,” Blair said. “I’m sorry I made you run off.”

Door swallowed, then shook her head. “Blair, don’t.”

To Door’s surprise, Blair didn’t protest, didn’t say a word in response. Instead, she wrapped Door in her arms and held her tight. After a moment, Door finally draped her own loosely around Blair’s waist.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Door whispered, into Blair’s ear. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” Blair responded. She pressed her cheek against Door’s shoulder. “Don’t. It’s okay, all right? Everything is going to be okay.”

As if to punctuate that thought, Door felt Knives press against her leg. The audino’s arms wrapped around her hips, and her pudgy body vibrated with a soft hum. And between Blair’s warmth and Knives’s, Door couldn’t help herself.

She cried for the second time, right into Blair’s shoulder.

Door couldn’t remember the last time she cried—before that day, anyway. She must have when they left Hoenn because she remembered being upset, but … ever since then, for reasons that sounded stupid to her when she tried to put them into words, she couldn’t. Her mom taught her how to be strong, and after Virginia left for Castelia City, Door had to be the sensible one in the family. Sure, Door’s father had enough of a head on his shoulders to take care of the bills, and sure, they had Companions taking care of their every household need, but her father was always busy with work after her mother left for Castelia. Door had to keep an eye on herself most days when the Companions didn’t. She got herself up, she got herself dressed, and she stayed in as much trouble or out of as much trouble as she liked, without her father really knowing either way.

And so, she didn’t cry. Not for those past ten years, since her family brought her to Unova.

Except now, anyway.

And … part of her felt some sort of relief. Some sort of release. Because at that moment, at that very second, she realized one important thing.

Blair wasn’t judging her. A _human_ wasn’t judging her for her weakness. Blair only let her cry. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t move except to smooth her hands against Door’s back. For the first time in her life, Door Hornbeam felt _safe_ with a human being, and this made her cry harder.

“I didn’t treat Jack right,” she murmured into Blair’s shoulder.

“Don’t say that. You were great,” Blair said. Then, without skipping a beat: “Opal? Will you get us some tea? You like tea, don’t you, Door?”

Door cracked a wavering smile and sobbed. “I hate it.”

Blair must have felt Door’s expression pressing into her shoulder because she shuddered with a laugh. “Opal? Three cups. Make it green tea. One of them should be audino-sized.”

“Right away, Miss Blair!” Opal chirped.

Out of the corner of her eye, Door saw the blurry, white streak that was Opal stand up and rush away. At the same time, Blair shuffled backwards, guiding Door to sit at the booth. Knives pulled away and wormed onto the bench opposite them, worming all the way to the end before slapping the countertop with both paws. Door hiccoughed at the sight and wiped her eyes with one hand; the other Blair held in both of her own.

“Sorry,” Door said. “I’m-I’m a mess.”

Blair rubbed Door’s hand with her thumbs. “Don’t apologize. It sounds like you went through a lot. And … I know you treated Jack as well as you could.”

“No, I didn’t,” Door said firmly. “You don’t know me. I’m a terrible person. I was a jerk to Geist, and I didn’t spend enough time with Jack. And now look what happened!” 

She cut off that thought by pounding the table. Blair’s tablet rattled against the linoleum countertop, and Blair eyed it briefly before locking gazes with Door.

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up,” she said. “I mean…” Her eyes trailed away again. “Geist told me about how stubborn and angry you were, but he never thought you were a _bad_ person.”

“That’s because the stupid idiot’s my Companion,” Door mumbled, wiping at her eyes again. “He _has_ to think the best of me.”

Blair scoffed. “Come on, Door. That’s not true.”

Door pressed the heel of her hand into her eye but didn’t say a word. It was true that Geist had to listen to her, but did anything in his programming say he had to _like_ her? Yet … she wanted what Blair said to be true. She wanted it more than anything short of a complete do-over of that day.

“Anyway,” Blair continued, her eyes falling onto their hands, “would that have changed things?”

Door blinked to clear her eyes. She didn’t feel like crying anymore. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Geist told me not to go into Chargestone Cave. I should have listened to him. And then Jack would still be alive, and Geist wouldn’t be…”

She trailed off. Blair pushed Door’s sleeve up and rubbed her forearm.

“I couldn’t tell whether or not you were awake,” Blair said. “But you heard what I said about Geist, right?”

Door nodded with nearly imperceptible movements.

“Well,” Blair continued, “Dr. Fennel and your dad are here. The part’s coming tomorrow, but they said they can fix Geist. If you want, you could talk to him now.”

Door pressed her lips together. She bowed her head and shook it, this time with stiff, quick movements. Blair squeezed her hand and leaned in, pressing her forehead against Door’s.

“Hey, listen to me,” she said. “He’ll forgive you.”

“Jack can’t,” Door said. Her voice squeaked. Her throat was almost too tight for her to speak, and she could feel another wave of tears coming on.

For a long moment, Blair gazed at her, and Door could feel her doing it. She could feel Blair’s intense eyes and calm, deep breath. In a way, it was like all those times when Geist tried to comfort her with his calmness and his carefully chosen words, and Door half-expected Blair to say something wise. But no, Blair was different. She was alive, and she could feel in ways Geist couldn’t, and because of that, Door wanted her to say something. To hold her again. To feel her warmth.

Blair could understand Door. Blair could feel for Door. And by God, Door wanted her to do both so badly.

She wanted to feel _connected_. She wanted to be told she was _a good person_.

But sometimes, life doesn’t give a person exactly what they want. What they _need_ is an entirely different story.

“Door,” Blair said, “do you know about Celestial Tower?”

Door’s throat tightened. Of course she knew about Celestial Tower. Everyone in Unova knew about Celestial Tower.

She nodded, and Blair squeezed her hand.

“Let’s go to Celestial Tower,” Blair said.

And so they did.

—

_> UNTITLED.txt_  
> Author: Lanette Hamilton  
> Notes: From the audio research notes of Lanette Hamilton. Transcript only; sound file has been lost. File transcribed by Cassius Cassine.

_LANETTE: Project Eurydice, day 13. The biggest hurdle to creating our own pokémon is replicating their moves. It’s easier with pure digital pokémon like porygon or half-organics like voltorb; you can map out the genetics behind natural energy manipulation or grow and transplant organic aura channels yourself. But when you’re dealing with a creature that’s wholly cybernetic, those methods won’t work. They’re too incompatible with the hardware structure we’ve established with the Companions. So what is?_

_Answer: The aura engine. In layman’s terms, the aura engine is a device that generates artificial aura that can be converted into the elemental energy needed to use any number of techniques loaded into a pokémon’s memory core. And we’re just about to test it. Ready?_

_████: Almost. Just need one more adjustment and … there! All set. Get behind the safety glass, and we should be good to go._

_LANETTE: Got it! For test one, we’re starting off easy, with a move that requires minimal aura energy: Bubble. ████, safety check!_

_[BACKGROUND: a bang]_

_████: Safety shield engaged._

_LANETTE: Engine harness?_

_████: Steady._

_LANETTE: Failsafe?_

_████: On standby. Well, Lanette. This is it. Are you ready?_

_LANETTE: Well. A couple of months of work could either run smoothly or literally blow up in our faces. I’ve never been readier._

_████: Have a little faith! When have my calculations ever been wrong? Anyway, here we go. Initiating startup sequence._

_[BACKGROUND: boot up of machinery, followed by mechanical hum for 10.23 seconds]_

_████: Phase one passed. She’s holding steady._

_LANETTE: Increase power to 80% and begin aura generation sequence._

_[BACKGROUND: beep]_

_████: Power increase initiated. Power at 50% and climbing._

_LANETTE: Good. Keep it steady._

_[silence for 15 seconds, followed by a second beep]_

_████: 65%. Approaching phase two._

_LANETTE: So far, so good._

_████: Maybe._

_LANETTE: Maybe?_

_████: I’m getting a strange energy reading._

_LANETTE: Analyze._

_████: Already on it. It looks like—oh. Oh no._

_LANETTE: What?_

_████: Aura is leaking into the power grid. I think the safety latch jammed after phase one._

_LANETTE: What? Initiate power-down sequence._

_████: No. Wait. I think I can fix this._

_LANETTE: It’s not worth it. Shut it down!_

_████: It’s okay! If I can just reach it before it gets to 75%—_

_LANETTE: Are you crazy? If aura is leaking into the electrical chamber, that thing could blow at any moment!_

_[NOTE: At this point, Lanette’s voice grows distant, as if the recorder is moving away from her.]_

_LANETTE: Hey! ████! Get back here!_

_████: Get down!_

_LANETTE: ████! ████, no! Don’t—_

_[FOREGROUND: explosion, followed by audio distortion and momentary silence]_

_LANETTE, close to the recorder: Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, no, no, no, no—_

_████: Lanette?_

_[She screams.]_

_████: Lanette, it’s okay! I’m fine! See?_

_LANETTE: You’re fine? There’s a hole in your chest, you idiot!_

_[end recording]_


	38. Route 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Door goes from depression to acceptance to anger.

The sunlight hurt.

Door squinted and shielded her eyes with one hand. Blair held her other as she led Door through the gate at the northern end of Mistralton and onto the safe zone of Route 7. In front of them, Opal led the way with a glowing map suspended between her hands, and with every meter the group crossed, a tiny, circular icon traced up an illuminated path winding across the air in front of Opal’s face. Every so often, Opal announced a distance—1.5 kilometers to destination, 1.25 kilometers, 1 kilometer—and eventually, Door learned to tune it out, listening instead to Knives’s humming at her side.

Tea, followed by withdrawing her remaining pokémon (on Blair’s insistence), followed by working their way through Mistralton. It must have taken more than an hour to work through that process, yet the sun had just barely passed its zenith. Apparently, Door had lost all sense of time. She hadn’t realized it was still early morning when she left her room, but that explained the foot traffic in the Mistralton pokémon center.

She shifted her gaze to her right, still shielding her eyes with a hand. Route 7 was a lot like all the other routes in Unova: just a plexiglas, elevated surface fringed on both sides by tall grass. But the grass here was taller, probably to emulate the Route 7 of Hilda’s day, and it hid a lot of the trainers who must have been out there. The only clues Door got that they were there were the sounds of battles: kids shouting commands, pokémon crying out, attacks landing and exploding…

...and Companions. Every so often, Door could hear their mechanical voices guiding their trainers through battles, and every so often, light from holographic screens would paint the grass a rainbow of colors. Door felt herself crack a wry grin, even though her heart twisted in her chest. All of them seemed so fake. Just following orders and doing the things that would make their users happy.

Geist probably wouldn’t. As Door listened to the Companions around her, she thought back to the first battle Geist guided her through after she knew for certain he was a Companion. The one where she had caught Storm. She remembered his words, laced with a mixture of extreme patience and exasperation. He didn’t rely on screens or tell her where to go every five seconds. Not like these Companions. He only pointed her in the right direction and gave her hints.

And treated her like a human being.

Door breathed in. She hadn’t broken down since the pokémon center, and she wasn’t going to now. She had to keep it together. She had to keep walking.

But then, Opal stopped, and Knives’s ears twitched. A tiny dot appeared close to the line on Opal’s map, and she whirled around to face the rest of the group.

“Oh! Miss Blair!” she exclaimed. “There’s a wild deerling only a few feet from us. Would you like to catch it?”

Blair stopped. Then, she grinned and nudged Door’s side.

“Why don’t you go for it?” she asked. “Go on. The battle will make you feel better.”

Door took another deep breath. Her mind had wandered back to Prongs, back to the last time she had seen her first deerling. She didn’t want to tell Blair about him. She couldn’t put into words _why_ ; she could only feel her throat close up a little, cutting off any sentence she could have said.

So instead, she nodded.

“O-okay,” she rasped. “Knives—”

Knives was already gone. Door straightened, staring at the empty space Knives had occupied just a moment ago before frantically looking around.

“Shit,” Door cursed. “Knives? Knives!”

Door tore her hand away from Blair’s. She scrambled to one edge of the safe route and frantically scanned the tall grass for any sign of her audino. She couldn’t help it. She thought of Jack in his last moments—his expression when he died and how _scared_ he looked when it happened—and her heart pounded at the possibility of Knives looking like _that_.

“Knives!” she screamed. “Knives! Get back here!”

Knives answered with a literal bang. A wild deerling burst from the grass, propelled by a thin but bright beam of crackling electricity, only to sail past Door and Blair and into the field on the other side of the route. It crash-landed just at the edge of the field but slid backwards, plowing the soft earth until it came to a rest in a bed of bent grass and tilled soil several feet away. There, the deerling lay, smoking and unmoving.

A second later, Knives climbed back onto the route, padded to Door’s side, and grabbed her hand with both paws. She tilted her head and trilled, and her tail wagged vigorously.

Door looked at Blair.

“I … might have taught her Charge Beam while you were asleep,” Blair said sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Door shook her head vaguely. “Uh … nope. Don’t mind at all.”

“Hey!”

At the sound of the new voice, Door stiffened. She whirled around, facing the grass Knives had just come out of, to see a boy about her age climb onto the walkway, followed by a green-haired female Companion in a maid outfit. The boy shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans as he slouched and glared at Door.

“Was that your audino kicking my deerling around?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Door deadpanned.

“Oh, you must be mistaken!” Opal said, clasping her hands together. “That deerling was not registered to a trainer!”

The boy snorted. “Just because it wasn’t registered don’t mean it wasn’t mine. You know how long I’ve been tracking that thing?”

Blair stepped forward, holding her hands up. “H-hey. Hold on. We don’t want any trouble. We’re sorry. We didn’t see you, okay? Right, Door?”

Some part of Door knew what she was about to do next was a bad idea. She had just lost most of her pokémon, and she nearly had a panic attack over the prospect of losing another one. But something else tugged at her the moment this kid walked up. No. The moment Knives killed the deerling in one shot. The idea of power, the idea of wielding it against someone else.

All of a sudden, those ideas sounded _nice_. Because for the first time in three days, Door suddenly felt something other than this deep chasm of nothingness or the edges of pure pain. She felt something other than sadness and frustration and self-hatred.

She felt a fire. Not an ember, even. It was like her entire heart just burst into flames and threatened to consume her.

She needed to hurt something else. Badly.

“It’s fine,” she said, her voice toneless but sharpened to a knife’s edge. “You’re right. Let’s settle this like trainers.”

“Door?” Blair whispered.

The boy cracked a grin and pulled his hands out of his pockets. In them, he held three poké balls. Not one. Not two. _Three._ Door eyed them without shifting her expression.

“I wasn’t gonna actually challenge you, but sure,” the boy said. “Triple battle sound good to you?”

Door narrowed her eyes. She thought back to the last three-on-three battle she had—the one against Heartbreaker. The one where she lost Boomer. The one where Geist was shot. She narrowed her eyes and stepped forward, in front of Blair. Blair reached out and grasped her shoulder.

“Door, wait,” Blair said.

She shrugged Blair off and drew three poké balls out from her pockets. Without a word, she flicked them forward, and in a second, Neptune, Queen, and Huntress were standing in front of her. The boy’s smile grew, and he released his own pokémon. Swoobat. Watchog. Liepard.

“Door, you don’t have to do this,” Blair said.

“Neptune, Air Slash on that watchog!” Door commanded. “Queen, Fake Out on swoobat! Huntress, Helping Hand on Queen!”

The boy sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Ooh. You a newbie or something? Swoobat, Air Slash that ducklett back into the ground. Watchog and Liepard? Use Crunch.”

Huntress was the first to move. She thrust a paw out as a red light washed over her body, and she pressed her paw into Queen’s shoulder. Queen arched her back, forcing her hair to stand on end, and as a long hiss escaped Queen’s lips, the red light flowed from Huntress into her body. She shook off the red light, ground her paws into the earth, and leapt forward, claws out, at the swoobat. Before the swoobat could move, Queen clapped her front paws together, sending a shockwave through the air and into her opponent’s body. The swoobat shrieked and shot from the air into the plexiglas ground, leaving a spiderweb of cracks as it rolled across its surface. Queen landed gracefully, then bounded forward and jumped onto the swoobat to keep it pinned.

The problem with that was, as Door realized a little too late, that focusing most of her attention on a single pokémon left two more free to attack.

That and she had barely trained Neptune. Which was probably why he had chosen that moment to give her an uncertain glance.

“Neptune! Move!” she shrieked.

The ducklett quacked and flapped his wings to take off, but he couldn’t get much further than half a foot into the air. Abruptly, the boy’s watchog caught Neptune in its enormous jaws, and before Door could even think about it—in a move so fast she almost missed it—Neptune snapped in half.

And just like that, he spilled, in pieces, onto the walkway at his trainer’s feet.

Door froze. She stared at the two halves of her ducklett. Her mind had blanked. She didn’t even see the liepard dive at Queen, nor the two cats roll off the boy’s woobat and away. She simply _stared_ at the ducklett at her feet.

Then, Blair’s arms were back around her, and the girl’s voice was in her ear. “Door! Call off the battle! You don’t have to do this!”

And somehow, that made the fire in her chest burn hotter.

“Huntress, Crunch!” she screamed. “Queen, Pursuit! Knives! Charge Beam!”

She couldn’t hear the boy’s orders, but she knew he called them. The swoobat took to the air shakily, only to be shot through the chest by a quick beam of electricity from Knives. Queen dove at the watchog with a hiss, and as the watchog’s teeth clamped down on her shoulder, she slashed at him with her claws.

And then there was Huntress and the boy’s liepard. The two dove at each other once, its claws slashing at Huntress’s shoulder while Huntress snapped at its face. They landed, teeth bared, hair raised, circling one another. Door said nothing as she watched, but the boy yelled and whooped, his fist flailing in the air above him as he cheered his liepard on. Without even thinking about it, Door let her eyes fall on the swoobat not far from where the boy stood. Its body lay still, wings spread, smoke rising from the hole Knives had made.

The boy didn’t seem to notice. Or care. Or maybe he did, and he was just as angry as Door. She looked up in wonder.

And then, just as Huntress bit through the liepard’s neck, it impaled her forehead with its claws.

And the two fell over, still and silent.

And Door realized the fire in her wasn’t a feeling.

Not really.

It wanted to consume her, yes, but it wasn’t pain or anger or fear or sadness. It was something else entirely. Just a blind, emotionless _want_.

It should have scared her … but it didn’t.

“Queen, Fury Swipes. Knives, Charge Beam.”

Her voice was even but quieter than usual. She could feel Blair respond to it by tightening her grip on her waist. But Door didn’t care.

Instead, she watched.

She knew about the cliche—the one where everything would seem to go in slow motion when something terrible happened. And so it went then, with the four remaining pokémon lunging at one another, paws skittering across plexiglas and over the broken bodies of fauxkémon all over the battlefield, until they met in the center.

The boy’s watchog moved first, launching itself at Queen. Its teeth sank into her shoulder before she could dodge. Her left paw rose, its claws fully extended, but as she raked them across the watchog’s back, the watchog bit clean through her neck. Her head rolled off her shoulders and bounced onto the ground, and the rest of her slumped sideways.

The watchog looked up, eyes blinking lazily, just as a beam of electricity engulfed its head. This one was larger than the others—far larger and more powerful—and at the other end of it, Knives screamed with her paw raised above her, fingers splayed and beam bursting from her hand.

The watchog fell over, head melted in, edges blackened. The air reeked of rubber and metal and burnt plastic. Door felt Blair gag against her back, and she felt sick herself at the sight of the decapitated watchog and the smell of its dead flesh. But she didn’t move.

Knives cut off her attack and pivoted on her back paws. The boy’s liepard was on her in an instant, head slamming into Knives’s chest. Both pokémon fell, Knives beneath the liepard, flat on her back with the cat’s paws pinning her own to the plexiglas. The cat leaned down, its jaws snapping, its claws poised above Knives’s face, held back only by Knives, physically holding the liepard at arm’s length by its parted maw.

And then, right then, Door realize she was about to lose her last pokémon.

Not just any pokémon, either.

_Knives._

“Knives,” Door whimpered.

And then, she thrust herself forward, held back only by Blair.

“Knives!” she screamed. “ _Knives! GET UP! FOR GOD’S SAKE!_ ”

Beneath the liepard, Knives’s ears twitched. She tensed, and she glared at her opponent.

And then, she opened her mouth, and a ball of bright yellow light swirled in her throat.

The Charge Beam that erupted from her mouth ripped the liepard off her and sent it flying, head over paws, onto the plexiglas. It slammed into the path, smashing it beneath its weight as it skittered backwards. Electricity crackled off its body, and smoke curled up from its frame, and given the way the boy’s watchog went down, Door half expected the battle to be over right then and there.

Except it wasn’t.

The liepard pushed off the ground and rose, shakily, to all four paws. Its head cocked with jerks and jolts, and each slow step it took was halting and erratic. But somehow, it began to crawl, inch by inch, back to Knives, and when it was halfway there, it yowled—its voice not much more than a mechanical screech—and dove at Knives with its jaw unhinged and ready to rip her to shreds. She flinched, holding her bleeding paws up to catch it.

Without warning, a stream of boiling hot water blasted from the fields, slamming into the side of the broken liepard and into Knives’s arms. The liepard screeched, both mechanically and in its own cat-like voice, as it toppled to the road and slid to a stop at its edge. It tried to get back up, but the moment it did, a shower of sparks rained out from its open and soaked mouth, and it toppled over, its legs kicking uselessly beneath its twitching body.

Knives, meanwhile, was screaming. Blair and Opal were at her side first, pulling her up and onto her haunches. She cried out, paws reaching up and grasping for Door while Blair tried to pull her hands towards Opal.

And it was that sight—the sight of her helpless little rabbit crying and grasping for her that shook Door out of her daze. With a half-sobbing cry, Door dove down and scooped Knives into her arms, and as she frantically apologized into her rabbit’s pudgy side, her audino’s wails began to subside. Gingerly, Blair grasped Knives’s elbows and held her paws up to Opal, who finally spread her hands over the audino’s palms. Light drifted from Opal into the burns and bites stretching across Knives’s hands, and Door watched, rocking Knives back and forth and sniffling into the rabbit’s shoulder. Before her eyes, she could see the bites stitch back up and the burns dissolve, and with each passing second, Knives grew calmer and calmer until she rested in Door’s arms.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay now.”

Blair knelt beside Door. She kept one of her hands on Knives’s elbows, but the other reached out to grasp Door’s shoulder. The look on her face was one of sympathy. Eyebrows knitted. Eyes glittering not with judgment but with concern. From anyone else, Door supposed she would have felt a spike of disgust from that expression, but from Blair … she felt _shame_.

And the thing was … she knew she deserved that shame.

Knives was her only pokémon left now. Three pokémon died because Door wanted … what? Why did she even do this? To let off steam? Because she wanted some kind of cosmic revenge for the fact that so many of her other pokémon were taken from her? What?

Beyond Blair, Door was just barely aware that someone else had gotten onto the route. The boy was arguing with that someone else. He was getting close. His chest was pressed against the newcomer’s. A poké ball appeared in his hand. And Door felt a pang of jealousy. The boy had more pokémon.

The boy had more pokémon.

_The boy had more pokémon, and Door had used four in the match._

Door’s heart thundered when she realized the implication. This battle wasn’t over. It wasn’t going to be over until she was out of pokémon. Knives was still in danger, and this was _her fault_. She held Knives tightly as she tensed, and Blair’s expression shifted into one of confusion before she looked over her shoulder and realized what Door had. Blair shifted her body between Door and the other trainers, her arm stretching out to block Door, but she didn’t need to worry.

The second trainer’s simipour took care of things—namely by rushing in and throwing its entire body at the boy.

He went sprawling across the plexiglas, and the newcomer stood over him, hands on his hips. The second trainer said something—what, Door couldn’t parse—and just like that, the boy blanched, scrambled to his feet, and took off running.

With a sigh, the newcomer’s shoulders sagged. He waited for a few seconds before whirling around and tossing black bangs out of his gray eyes. Sauntering forward, he slipped one hand into the pocket of his skinny jeans, but the other he hung at his side. When he was close enough, he knelt down and patted Knives on the head. Then, he smiled brightly at Door, drew his other hand out of his pocket, and offered it to her.

“Tu vas bien?” he asked.

Door took one look at his hand and punched him in the face.

 

—

_> UNTITLED.txt_  
_> Author: N/A_  
 _ > Notes: From Series Alpha Zero-One’s audio-visual backup system. Transcript of audio track only; video component has been corrupted. File transcribed by Cassius Cassine._

_████: I’m sorry for scaring you._

_[BACKGROUND: Metal-on-metal clicking. LANETTE does not reply.]_

_████: You’re mad. I know. I should have listened to you. But we nearly lost two months of work. I thought—_

_LANETTE: Is that what’s most important to you? A hunk of metal?_

_████: Well, you know me._

_LANETTE: Yes, I do._

_[pause]_

_████: I mean, it’s not that serious, is it?_

_[BACKGROUND: Clicking stops.]_

_████: Look! You did an amazing job. See? I’m almost as good as new! No big deal._

_[pause]_

_████: Anyway, this is why you’re letting me help you in the laboratory, isn’t it?_

_[BACKGROUND: A piece of metal strikes a concrete surface.]_

_LANETTE: I’m letting you work with me because I need your help, not because I can put you back together if something happens to you._

_████: Lanette. I’m okay._

_LANETTE: No, you’re not! Don’t you get it? It’s not about me having to fix you. It’s about—_

_[pause]_

_████: What?_

_LANETTE: I’m shutting down the LFA system. Maybe you’ll start to get it then._

_████: What? No! Wait—_


	39. Special: My Silicon Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Geist asks a personal question again and again and again and again and aga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following is a special written for Pride Month (in response to the Nuzlocke Forums' Pride 2018 Create-a-thon). It takes place right before/after Driftveil Gym, but it's completely non-canon—as in, although the orientations are 100% true-to-character and although this is indeed as close as a look into Geist's head as you're gonna get until the epilogue, the events ... never actually happened.
> 
> With that confusing author's note aside, enjoy!

_“I don’t want this to end. Is that wrong?”_

_“Mm. No. No, not at all.”_

_Pause._

_Rewind._

_“I don’t want this to end. Is that wrong?”_

_“Mm. No. No, not at all.”_

_Rewind._

_“Is that wrong?”_

_“Mm. No. No, not at all.”_

_Rewind._

_“No. No, not at all.”_

_Rewind._

_“Not at all.”_

_Rewind._

_“Not at all.”_

_Sigh._

Geist opened his eyes. It was long after Door had left. Long after the tech had left too. The lights were out, save for the soft, hazy glow of every occupied pod’s alcove and screen. He sat up, meeting slight resistance from the cord snaking from his neck, and he reached up to grasp its base. With his hand still on the back of his neck, he lifted his head and looked out, into the silence of the room.

The doors were closed and locked. Accessible only by a trainer’s keycard, he knew, and beyond that, there would be one of the nursing units, acting as a guard and alarm for any suspicious activity. Normally, he would appreciate the safety, but now, with his thoughts still locked onto that recording of himself and Lanette, it made him feel restless. Sure, no one would steal him, but he couldn’t _leave_ , either. Not to take a walk and clear his head. Not to find Door and ask her questions.

He leaned back in his pod and rested his hands on his stomach. _Would_ he ask Door? He pressed his head into the backrest and stared at the lights of the alcove. No. He couldn’t.

There was a lot he didn’t tell Door. It wasn’t that he knew more about himself than she did—in fact, it was true that he had just as much of an idea of where he came from and what he had been as she did—but there were little things. Unexplainable things he was sure weren’t normal for a Companion, but he had no frame of reference for.

Like those feelings.

Were they feelings?

Geist had no heart, and yet…

He lifted his hands and examined them. Who would’ve known that one of them had been replaced recently? It looked perfect, right down to the subtle creases on his palms and the loops on his fingertips. Every part of him could be replaced, just like that. Perhaps even his cores, if he really needed.

He wasn’t human. He wasn’t human, and he could be replaced. The things that he thought, the things that he felt … none of them were real.

And yet, he hurt. Not physically of course. He couldn’t feel physical pain. But it was an indescribable _something_ that, for whatever reason, his processes immediately described as _hurt_. It was this deep sadness, only … it couldn’t be sadness because he couldn’t _feel_ sadness, could he? Just an emulation of it.

And yet. And yet. And yet.

Geist sat up again. In his head, the clip stopped on Lanette’s face. He could see it in his cores: the fire-orange shine on each individual strand of hair framing her long face, the depth of the creases at the corners of her broad smile, the splash of freckles across her nose. He _knew_ every last detail, not because he had her image literally burning in his mind. No, it was because a long time ago, he stared at those images over and over again, just like he was that night. And long ago, seeing that image of her made something inside him _hurt_ too.

Could he…?

_Rewind._

_“You look so beautiful against the sunset. I want to make sure I remember this.”_

_Rewind._

_“I want to make sure I remember this.”_

_Rewind._

_“I want to make sure I—”_

_ESC ESC ESC._

Geist found himself sitting up again, head in his hands, cord detached and curled up behind him. He slid his hands over his mouth, clutching his lips closed in what would have been panic for anything other than a Companion. His mind raced through the standards checks. No, he hadn’t been hacked. No, he hadn’t triggered a virus. No, he was perfectly fine. So why did that…?

Calm. He shut his eyes tightly and pressed his fingers to his temples. He had to talk to _someone_. But who at this hour? Maybe he could reach out and convince the guard Companions to let him out, just for a little while. But could he talk to Door about this? Should he worry her?

No. He needed to talk to someone else. Someone closer. His mind reached out, tapping databanks and scanning information until he found what he was looking for.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “Come here.”

When he opened his eyes, two other Companions were sitting up. One small and male. One older and female. They looked at him for a moment, heads tilted as they processed what he was saying, and then, in unison, they detached from their pods, hopped off their beds, and trotted to his side.

“Sit down,” he said.

And they did, on their knees, on the floor. Geist swung his legs over the edge of the pod and faced them.

“Tell me your name,” he said.

The older-looking one spoke first. “Calliope Series 39, Unit 209374. You can call me Josephine.”

Geist flicked his eyes to the smaller one. “And you?”

In return, he bounced on his knees and saluted. “Calliope Series 40, Unit 397139. My user calls me Blue!”

Geist leaned forward, studying their faces closely. “You’re both Calliope units?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

Calliopes. Geist couldn’t help but smile. These were practically his children, descendants from the experiments done on him specifically. So he knew them—knew how obedient they could be but also how observant. No other unit would know a trainer better than a Calliope.

Of course, perhaps he was a little biased. _He_ was a Calliope too. But that’s why he summoned them: they were just like him. Which meant, perhaps…

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” he said. “Answer them honestly and with the first thought that comes to your mind, all right?”

The two of them nodded at once and gave him a perfectly synchronized “yes, sir.”

Good. That meant Geist could cut right to the point.

“Tell me about your users,” he said. “Blue first.”

“My user?” Blue brought his fingertips to his mouth. Then, he snapped both his hands into small, determined fists in front of him. “Oh! Amelia Brown of Nacrene City, aged eleven. She has four badges, and—”

Geist held up a hand. “No, not that. What is Amelia _like_?”

Blue’s smile didn’t fade, but the light behind his dark eyes flickered. “I do not understand.”

“Her _personality_ ,” Geist said, his ever-steady patience wavering just slightly in his voice. “Is she kind?”

“Kind?” Blue inclined his head. Messy, black hair spilled over his round face. “Yes. Amelia is kind.”

“Energetic?” Geist asked.

“Yes! Very!” Blue replied.

“What are her interests?”

“Pokémon training!”

“And?”

Blue hesitated. After a moment, Geist realized he wasn’t going to answer, and he slumped his shoulders in step with his sinking hopes.

“You don’t know,” he stated.

“I’m sorry,” Blue responded. “My user did not enter that information.”

With a frown, he shook his head. “It’s all right, Blue. You did your best.” Then, shifting his gaze to the other Companion, he added, “What about you, Josephine? Describe your user’s personality to me.”

Josephine leaned back on her heels. She lifted his eyes to meet Geist’s, and with a heave of her shoulders (her AI must have been carefully programmed for him to exhibit complex body language like that), she sighed. “Connor Rockland, aged sixteen. Stubborn. Hot-headed. Lazy. Frequently asks for advice but blatantly disregards it. Yet … confident. Trustworthy. Loyal.”

Geist smiled. “Difficult but loyal user? You’re in good company. Now tell me, the both of you…” He sat back. “Would you say you love your users?”

“Love?” Josephine asked.

“Well … yes,” Geist replied. “Love. Do you care for your users?”

“Of course we do!” Blue exclaimed. His voice carried a note of shock, but there was something to it, a slight tinny sound that Geist couldn’t help but pick up on. It made him press his fingers harder into his knees.

“Do you wish to be with them for as long as they live?” he asked.

“Naturally,” Josephine responded. Blue nodded enthusiastically next to her.

Geist hesitated. He knew what they were thinking: solely about the duties of a Companion. Of _course_ they cared, and of _course_ they wanted to be with their users for as long as possible. That was the _most basic directive_ of every Companion. Even Geist felt it on a level, although he was certain most Companions saw it differently than he did.

Not that he could put into words how he saw it in the first place. Just like he couldn’t put into words what his question actually _was_ right then and there. How could he explain love to other Companions when he wasn’t sure what it was himself?

Or … maybe he did.

“If you were to wake up tomorrow to find out your user was dead, how would that make you feel?” he asked.

At first, there was no answer. Geist studied the Companions before him, watching them bow their heads and let the lights in their eyes flicker. Blue’s head began to whir, almost like he was struggling to come up with an answer. Josephine, meanwhile, lifted her chin a few seconds before he did.

“Disappointed,” she said.

Disappointed. _Disappointed._

“Josephine,” Geist said. “How long have you been with your user?”

“Six years, eight months, fourteen days,” Josephine recited.

“And you would only be disappointed if he died tomorrow?” Geist asked.

“Are you threatening my user?” Josephine responded.

Geist held up a hand. “No. I’m just curious. Blue, how about you? How long have you known your user?”

Blue snapped out of his processing daze immediately. “A year and a half!”

“And what would you do if your user were gone tomorrow?” Geist said.

Blue smiled. “I would resume my scheduled duties until they’re cancelled by Amelia’s authorized emergency contact!”

Geist slumped his shoulders. They didn’t know. They were just like him, yet…

He waved his hand in the air. “Thank you. Go back to your pods and plug yourselves back in. That’s all I wanted to know.”

They did as they were told. Of course they did. They were, after all, just Companions.

And Geist? Geist pressed the plug into the outlet on the back of his neck and lay back down, hands on his stomach and eyes on the ceiling.

He entered sleep mode that night with more questions than he ever had.

—

Daily Schedule

7:00 AM: Wake up. Disengage from pod. Switch off alarm.

7:05 AM: Collect breakfast from the pokémon center cafeteria for Door. Black coffee, house roast, in a thermacup to go. If travel is planned for the day, a bagel sandwich. If no travel is planned, waffles. Syrup and strawberry jam on the side.

7:25 AM: Enter Door’s room. Arrange breakfast on the desk. Read weather report, then access Door’s digital inventory to select appropriate outfit and supplies. Withdraw towel and toiletries. Do not wake Door.

7:35 AM: Attempt to wake Door. Fail. Set alarm for 8:00 AM.

7:35 - 8:00 AM: Map the day’s schedule. Otherwise, free period.

That morning, Geist couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get through his morning tasks. On the contrary, one of the advantages of being a Companion was that one could quite literally go on autopilot. He wasn’t even aware that he had lost himself in thought—or some semblance thereof—until he had settled down on the floor beside Door’s bed, a map of Driftveil City open in his hands and his user snoring softly behind him. And that was when he realized he was looping over the same thought over and over again. _10:00 - 11:00 AM: Battle with Roland Stone, Driftveil Gym._ In his head, the gym’s instructions for preparation were open, and on the map, he could see a route neatly planned from the pokémon center directly to the gym. But he wasn’t thinking about that.

He was thinking, again, about the video. He could feel it, the file open somewhere else in the back of his head, frozen over Lanette’s face. It was open when he woke up, and it was playing over and over again as he walked through the pokémon center. And then, deep down, he could feel that ache in his…

His where? He had no heart. Nothing about him was real. He had no nervous system, no muscles, no skin, no flesh. Nothing that could _hurt_.

So what was this feeling?

Geist clapped his hands together. The map disappeared in a flash, and in his head, the schedule froze at _10:00 - 11:00 AM: Battle with Roland Stone_. Nothing after.

Door would just have to deal with a little spontaneity.

He stood up and looked down at Door. It was only 7:39; that was what the clock in his head told him. And she looked so peaceful, just lying there and not _arguing_ with him for once. Geist couldn’t help but crack a smile. Sure, he could only remember three years of his time on Earth, but this girl? This girl, without a doubt, caused more trouble for him than anything that came before or after his data wipe.

Yet he couldn’t fault her for it. First off, that’s not what a Companion could _do_ , and second … part of him enjoyed it. This was yet another thing Geist would never tell Door. The last thing she needed was _encouragement_. In that department, at least.

Geist straightened and fixed his new suit. No, he wouldn’t tell her—about the hurt, that is. He _couldn’t_ tell her. He was supposed to be her _guardian_ , her faithful Companion—or at the very least, _responsible_. How could he ask her? It would be like a parent asking a child…

Yet … she would know, wouldn’t she? About love. About what it meant. About whether or not he could feel it towards another human being. About coming to understand those feelings he had towards humans, about understanding a deep part of himself he was told over and over again didn’t exist. About … Lanette.

Or, at the very least, she could tell him that he was stupid. Companions couldn’t love anyone, least of all humans. He was a Companion; therefore, he did not love humans. Simple as that.

The video wouldn’t close; that was why he buried it underneath the schedule. He tried not to think about that as he moved to the door. It was funny—a Companion trying not to think. They weren’t supposed to have _thoughts_ , were they?

So … what if he was different? What if he could—

Geist opened the door and stopped when he realized Blair was on the other side. She stood, hair still damp from a shower, fist raised to knock. Yet he hadn’t heard her footsteps, had he?

How long had she been there?

Blair’s eyes darted from Geist’s face to something behind him, and immediately, he understood why she was there.

“Um,” she said. “Want to … want to go have breakfast? With me? Please?”

No ordinary Companion could deny an innocent request from a human.

At least Geist had _that_ in common with them.

 

—

“Opal’s still charging,” Blair explained.

Geist hadn’t asked, but he appreciated the explanation nonetheless.

“I just thought,” Blair said slowly, with the edge of a bagel between her teeth, “that … you know. You’d wonder. Since she’s my Companion and all.”

“And you’re consulting me,” Geist finished. He toyed with the bottle of fresh water in front of him. It wasn’t for him to drink; he only picked it up because it could be converted to a healing charge later.

It was his job to be a pragmatist. Or was that another leftover trait of Bill’s?

Was that hurt, then…?

“Consulting you?” Blair bit off part of the bagel. Through a full mouth, she replied, “No, don’t get me wrong. I just…”

“Chew and swallow first, Miss Blair,” Geist responded patiently. His eyes trailed down to the bottle. “I can perform the Heimlich, but I would much rather not.”

A short pause, just long enough for Blair to do what she was told. It was amazing how different Blair was compared to Door.

She was _awake_ , for one.

“Sorry,” Blair said, her voice much clearer now. “But … you know you can call me Blair, right? Just … Blair.”

Geist shifted his eyes back to her, studying her face carefully. “Very well. Blair it is.”

“Thanks.” Blair set the bagel down on the paper plate in front of her. Her eyes fell on it, and her fingers traced the unbitten edges. “Anyway, I just thought … you know. Since she’s your friend and all, you’d like to know where she is.”

“My friend, Blair?”

“Well … yeah.” Blair lifted her eyes to meet Geist’s again. “You’re both Companions, so I just thought—and you’ve known her longer than I have…”

Blair trailed off at that point and fell into an embarrassed silence. Geist could even see her cheeks color slightly.

“Do … Companions even have friends? Like … you know what friendship is, right?” she asked.

“Of course I know what friendship is.” Geist tried his best to make that sound like a simple statement, not an accusation that Blair was calling him an idiot. It was a fair question, after all.

“Oh. Of course you do.” Blair tore off a piece of the bagel and pressed it between her fingers. “I just mean … do you experience that kind of thing the way we do?”

“I’m not sure.”

“R-right.” Blair popped the piece of bagel into her mouth and chewed slowly. She had turned her head away by then, pointedly avoiding Geist’s gaze.

“May I ask _you_ a question?” Geist said.

Blair looked back at him, not with surprise as he had expected but instead _relief_. “Of course.”

“What is it you needed to talk to me about?”

She practically jumped out of her skin at that question. Leaning back in her chair, Blair gripped the table, smiled awkwardly, and looked everywhere in the cafeteria but Geist.

“W-what? What makes you think I wanted to talk to you about anything specific?” she asked.

“Well, for starters…” Geist motioned to the table between them. “Obviously, you didn’t intend on inviting someone who can’t eat to breakfast.” He stopped, a thought shoving past the video to the surface of his mind. “Or were you … _oh._ That explains quite a bit.”

He rested his chin on one hand and twirled the bottle with the other. Truth be told, he didn’t _have_ to smile coyly whenever he did things like this. He didn’t even _have_ to be coy at all. It wasn’t a thing dictated by his normal behavioral protocols, and there was no advantage those little teasing moments.

But the looks on their faces and how candid they would be thereafter? It was worth breaking routine for _that_. If he had no true free will, he might as well _enjoy_ it, right? Keep the humans on their toes, partly for their benefit and partly for his entertainment.

To his surprise, Blair wasn’t as amusing as Door was. In the seconds that came after those words spilled out of Geist’s mouth, Blair grew visibly less flustered. She sank into herself, slouching in her seat with her head bowed. Her fingers played with her half-eaten bagel, and the embarrassed blush on her cheeks faded. Geist almost felt guilty. Almost.

“That obvious, huh?” she asked quietly.

“Not quite,” Geist replied. “You fooled a machine for a while.”

Blair cracked a smile. “Can you keep a secret?”

Rolling his chin forward on his palm, Geist settled back into studying her face. Teenagers were endlessly fascinating, he had to admit. “Of course. It’s what I’m designed to do.”

Once again, Blair’s fingers tore off a piece of her bagel, little by little, as if the act required more thought than it did. Geist kept his eyes on Blair’s face, refusing to let the movement distract him, but he took note out of it out of the corner of his eye. She was stalling.

“Door’s nice, isn’t she?” Blair asked.

Geist pressed his lips together. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Do you want the honest answer to that?”

A snort rushed out of Blair’s nose, only for her to give Geist a sharp look. “Come on, Geist. She’s not _all_ bad. I mean, I know you have to serve her, and I know she’s got a rotten opinion about you Companions, but…” Blair looked back down at her bagel. “I don’t know.”

Another moment of silence passed before Geist leaned back in his own chair. He crossed his arms and tapped his index finger on his forearm.

“No, I quite agree,” he said. “People are complicated, and it’s very, _very_ rare for someone to be without any redeeming qualities whatsoever. As stubborn, impulsive, quick-tempered, sarcastic, pessimistic, and fantastically rude as she can be … she can also care quite a lot about her friends.”

Blair looked up. “So … she treats all her friends…”

She trailed off, but Geist knew exactly where that question was heading. Did Door treat everyone the way she had treated Blair, whatever that might have entailed? The answer, Geist knew, was simple, and he reached across the table and rested his fingertips on Blair’s wrist to tell her as much.

“Can _you_ keep a secret?” he asked softly.

Keeping her eyes on his fingertips, Blair nodded. Geist leaned in a little more.

“As far as I can tell, you’re the only human friend Door has,” he told her. “And she is _very_ fond of you.”

Blair looked into his eyes. “Fond of me?”

With a small grin, he nodded. “Very much so.” Taking his hand away, Geist settled back into his seat. “May I ask you a question as well?”

“O-of course,” Blair replied. Her voice was airy, as if her mind wasn’t completely present in the conversation anymore.

“How do _you_ feel about Door?” Geist asked. “Or girls like her, in general?”

That snapped Blair back into attention. She looked at him briefly, then back down to her breakfast, and the blush on her cheeks was back with a vengeance.

“I, um … I don’t know,” she said. “I-I mean … Door is…” Her voice lowered, and she leaned forward, into the table, with one hand working its way through her long hair as she spoke. “I think I like Door. She’s just really nice. _Super_ nice. Like, I can tell—she acts tough, but she’s the sort of person where, deep down, she might be really sweet and just scared of admitting that? Does that make sense?” Geist smiled, wide and genuine this time. “It does. Go on.” “And she’s strong and funny,” Blair continued, as if she hadn’t heard Geist. “And I know she’s trying to be nice to _me_ , but sometimes, she just screws up, but it’s just _adorable_. I just want to get to _know_ her more, you know?”

She paused. Geist watched her look away and shove the bagel piece into her mouth, and he waited patiently thereafter. She wasn’t done. He knew that.

And sure enough, after a minute, she pulled herself back forward, into the conversation. “But … don’t get me wrong or anything, but I don’t think … I don’t know. I’m supposed to like guys, but then there’s _her_.”

“ _Do_ you like guys?” Geist asked. He kept his voice low and his tone informal. She needed the safety; he knew that too.

Blair shrugged. “That’s the thing. I do. But then there’s _her_.”

“You do realize you can like both, yes?”

“Yeah, I know,” Blair replied, cringing at Geist’s words. “I just…”

“Never thought about it?”

Blair shook her head. “No. Who would I talk to about it? It’s not something you just … say.” She looked him in the eye. “Sorry. Sometimes, I forget you’re not human. Or that, you know, you’ve been living with a scientist for the past three years. I mean … it’s hard to describe. What do you know about being fourteen?”

“Admittedly, not much,” Geist responded. “But don’t tell Door.”

That got a chuckle out of Blair. “It’s not worth it. I’m a little jealous of Companions because they don’t have to deal with things like bullies or getting zits and stuff.”

Bullies. Of course. That explained quite a bit, and Geist almost felt sorry for Blair in that instant. So, he had to switch tactics. Keep her spirits up. Keep her encouraged.

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. It sounds quite exciting too.” He reached across the table to grasp her wrist lightly. “Just remember, though, that you’re far away from whoever told you you could and couldn’t like, and that the people you’re surrounding yourself with now only want to see you happy. So it’s okay, Blair. You don’t have to have an answer at all, but whatever you choose to do, whomever you choose to love, just remember that we’ll stand beside you, all right?”

Blair nodded. The action came so quickly that Geist couldn’t tell whether or not his words had sunk into her mind. It was just something he would have to deal with later, he knew, but for now, he could feel the clock in his head grow closer and closer to that alarm. With one last squeeze, he stood up.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me,” he said. “But if it makes you feel any more comfortable, when I say Door likes you, I _do_ mean she _likes_ you.”

He started to pull away, but Blair, her face a blazing red by then, jumped and reached for his cuff.

“Um,” she said. “Where … where are you going now?”

“To wake Door up,” he replied. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her a thing we said, but if I don’t force her out of that dormitory now, we’ll have to deal with a _very_ disappointed Roland Stone. Incidentally, though, would you like me to check on Opal on my way back?”

Blair let go of his sleeve and shook her head slowly. “Thanks, but it’s okay. I’ll get her after breakfast.”

Geist nodded. “Probably for the best. I’ll need all the time I can get if I’m to force Door out of bed.”

As he turned away, he heard a shriek of laughter from Blair, and that put a smile back on his face. If he was anything at all, it was a good Companion, and that alone made that conversation worth it.

Well. That and something else. A thought, specifically.

If humans could explore themselves, why couldn’t he?

There was an answer to that. An actual one. But the question was, was he willing to ask _Door_ to get it?

 

—

If there was one thing Geist was, it was a good Companion. Between waking Door up, ushering her through her morning routine, enduring her verbal tirades when she realized exactly how late it was, leading her through Driftveil, and assisting her with her gym battle, Geist was _focused_. The video had been just beneath the surface of his mind, submerged by the deluge of activity around him. Nothing else mattered except Door’s immediate needs, which he silently swore he would fulfill with perfection.

Okay, so he was stalling.

Could anyone blame him, though? He knew all too well what Door would say if he told her, if he asked her straight-out all the questions that were swimming through the bits and bytes of his mind. And on the one hand, it would be a relief to hear it from her, yes, and part of him anticipated it. On the other…

What _was_ stopping him from having that conversation?

Geist had managed to ignore that very question for the entire morning, and he had fully intended on ignoring it for the afternoon and well into the evening. Unfortunately, Door had other plans. Plans that mostly involved taking a break to let Blair train once they were far enough down Route 6 to let Driftveil vanish between the trees. Door stood back, at the edge of a clearing, as she watched Blair take on a small swarm of swadloon with Wilbur’s Flame Wheel and Opal’s constant stream of advice and encouragement. Geist stood at her side, hands behind his back, mentally counting the seconds until he realized Door wasn’t planning on talking at all.

So. Ask or stall? Geist could practically hear his cores whirring as they went back and forth between those two options, and as he leaned towards his user, he could swear they picked up speed. Ask or stall? Ask or stall?

“Congratulations on the gym battle, by the way,” he said.

Stall. _Stall like there’s no tomorrow._

“You’ve said that already,” she replied.

He straightened up immediately. “Right. Right.”

Door was giving him a strange look. He knew this; he could see it out of the corner of his eye. Knowing her, Geist realized this was likely to go one very specific way. She would ask him what was wrong, he would dodge the question, and she would throw out guesses of a questionably sensible variety until he would completely distract her by asking her about how _she_ was doing.

It could be an opportunity, though. Geist could get it over with and simply ask her what was on his mind. But that inexplicable hesitation was still there.

So he cut her off instead.

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” he asked.

“Wha-who?” Door jerked, visibly startled. Then, whirling away from him, she looked back into the clearing, just as Blair was taking on another swadloon. “ _Blair?_ ”

“Yes,” Geist replied. He added a short nod to make his reaction seem authentic. “I was worried she would fall behind, but I see I’ve underestimated her.”

Door snorted, and out of the corner of his eye, Geist could see her smirk and plant her hands on her hips. “Well, yeah. Blair’s just got sucky confidence, but if she’d stop talking crap about herself for five seconds, she’d realize how awesome she can actually be.”

“Awesome?” Geist said, his voice teasing.

And to the surprise of an audience that certainly did not include Geist, Door took to the bait. Her head jerked away, but what little skin Geist could see was already turning a bright shade of red.

“Y-yeah?” she squeaked. It was clear she was trying to keep her voice low, perhaps to avoid drawing Blair’s attention. “I said awesome. So what?”

Geist leaned in. “You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?”

Door wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m starting to regret telling you I like girls.”

“Come now, Door,” Geist responded. “You really do need to think of me as your help rather than a hindrance. I could, for example … talk to her on your behalf, perhaps?”

“Do that, and I’ll kill you,” Door growled through gritted teeth.

A lesser Companion would have pointed out that machines can’t technically die, but Geist was no ordinary Companion, was he? He leaned back on his heels, eyes rolling skyward as if in deep thought.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever understand human romance,” he said. “If you like someone, as you clearly do, wouldn’t it be easier—”

Door held up a hand. “Nope. Gonna stop you right there. It would not.” Then, glancing towards Blair’s battle, she slapped her raised hand around Geist’s wrist. “In fact, we’re gonna keep talking out of earshot so I can properly smack some sense into you.” Then, a little louder, she added, “Hey, Blair! Geist and I need to talk about our next gym battle. Be back in a sec!”

As Blair gave them a quick wave and an “okay,” Door led her Companion away from the battle and into the woods. She didn’t stop until she had placed at least four trees between herself and the clearing, and when she did, she let go of Geist’s wrist and whirled on him.

“Okay, look,” Door said. “Truth is, not many people know I’m … you know.”

Geist quirked an eyebrow. “That’s another thing. There’s nothing wrong with being gay, is there?”

Door cringed. “No, of course not! I mean … yeah, okay, I can get married or whatever, and yeah, things are better than they were fifty years ago, but actually? Some things just don’t change. Like people. You can’t just go up to people and say, ‘Hey! I’m gay, and I think you’re cute! Let’s date!’ That can still freak people out, especially if you’re from the boonies.”

Glancing skyward again, Geist bobbed his head from side to side to consider this. “Ignoring the fact that you have a very skewed definition of ‘the boonies,’ it makes sense. You’re afraid of how Blair would react.”

“Well, not just Blair…” Door rubbed the back of her neck. “Dad knows, and he’s supportive, but Mom? She’s a bit more traditional. And she’s worked so hard to keep me away from the media, and I don’t think she’d appreciate the media having a field day over the fact that her only daughter is, well…” Her voice grew soft, and she looked directly at her Companion. “A dyke.”

“Do people still use that term?”

Door hugged herself and looked away. “Not good people. But yeah. They do.”

Well. That explained why Door didn’t have human friends before now.

Other than the fact that she was horrendously sarcastic and rude, but still.

“I see,” Geist replied. “All right, then. But I do think you should tell Blair. She’s far more open-minded than you give her credit—”

“Okay, what did you tell her?”

Geist started. “I’m sorry?”

Door glared daggers at him. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing, Door,” Geist replied evenly.

“Geist, I swear, if you’re lying—”

“The closest I’ve ever been to lying with you is lying by omission, which, as I’ve established concerning the rules of Companion conduct, does not count,” Geist told her. “That having been said, I did indeed speak to her this morning, but our conversation was more of a personal nature. She asked me for advice.”

“On?”

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

There was a beat of silence, and Geist was afraid that Door would break it by pressing him for answers. Instead, and to his surprise, she exhaled and broke eye contact.

“Fine,” she said. “It’s cool.”

Door turned completely away from Geist at that point. She paced away from him and from the clearing, with one hand on the back of her neck, and for the first time since he had met her, Geist wasn’t sure what Door was about to do next.

“Listen,” she said. “I don’t expect you to get what’s going on between Blair and me. You’re a machine and all. What do you know about all that stuff?”

Geist stiffened. This was it. The answer he had been looking for.

“But, you know…” Her voice trailed off momentarily. “I don’t know.” Glancing up, she looked at Geist again. “Huh. Would’ve thought you’d have something smart to say.”

“Smart, Door?”

“Well … yeah,” Door said. “I mean, Usually, I tell you something personal, then tell you off for sticking your nose in my business. Then I say something about how you can’t possibly understand because you’re a robot, and then somehow, one thing leads to another, and I walk away with life advice and this feeling that I’d just embarrassed myself in front of the whole school. But you’re just _standing_ there.” She squinted at him. “In fact … you kinda seemed distracted not too long ago. You okay?”

“Hmm?” Geist shook his head. “Oh. Yes. Of course I am, Door. I’m fine.”

He hesitated. Normally, she’d press onward, but before she could, he held up a hand.

What _was_ keeping him from having this conversation?

Nothing at all, apparently. Nothing except appearances.

“Actually, wait,” he said. “Door. I need to ask you something, but I want you to know that I’m asking purely out of scientific interest, okay?”

Door scoffed. “Wow. Okay. Wasn’t gonna stop you, but sure.”

Ignore her sarcasm. Ask. This is _Door_. Geist had spent so much time with her that _she_ was able to accurately map out their usual conversations.

What harm would it be to ask?

“Door … how powerful are emotion cores?” he asked. “What can they _do_?”

She crossed her arms and gave him another strange look. “Uh … emulate emotions? Just cobble together some artificial personality based on the most basic possible traits? Is this a pop quiz?”

“No,” Geist replied. “I … ah. Is one of those emotions…?”

Door didn’t need to wait for Geist’s voice to trail off for her eyes to go wide. “Wait. Hold up. Are you asking me if…?”

Geist slowly lowered his hand. “I … I’m afraid so, Door.”

And then, for the second time in that conversation, Door did something Geist never would have seen coming.

She gave him a pitying frown.

“It’s the video, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.

“I haven’t been able to close it,” Geist admitted, his voice low.

“Why didn’t you say anything? What if it’s a virus or something?”

“It’s not,” he replied quickly. “And … I don’t think it’s something that can be resolved with standard troubleshooting.”

Door stood a little straighter. “What’re you saying?”

“I’m not sure,” Geist responded. His eyes drifted down until his gaze fixed onto his feet. “Every time I play that video, I feel—or … or rather, I _mimic the feeling of_ being hurt. I don’t understand what it means. I know I’m a machine.” He pulled his hands up and into his field of view, and he stared at his palms. “I know that none of me is real, and I know I can’t remember her on my own. Yet I _feel_ something. I can’t describe it, but it feels like my cores are burning.”

Silence. It seemed, apparently, that this conversation was just going to be one long line of Door doing things that she wouldn’t do in any other situation. Normally, Geist would be delighted by the variety, but now? Now he silently begged for her response.

Well. This conversation would just have to be a first for the both of them.

“Does that make sense?” Geist asked, hoping that would draw her out of silence.

“Geist,” she said quietly. “Usually, I’d blow this off because it’s you and fuck you sometimes, but … you’re new territory. You don’t even _try_ to act like other Companions. I mean, Jesus, I’ve seen enough Calliopes to know that, sure, they can get close, but they don’t act like _you_ did … well, ever. Not even the newest ones with fancy-schmancy cores and whatever.”

That got his attention. Geist looked up and studied Door’s face carefully. “Door…”

She waved him off. “What I’m trying to say is _can_ you have actual feelings? Who knows? Can you fall in love? _Who knows?_ All I know is my great aunt made you specifically to mimic her dead best friend, and she spent the next forty years trying to get you as close to what he was like as possible. Maybe she _did_ create you because she was a lonely, absolutely nutso freakazoid who loved her dead best friend and wanted him to love her back. Who. Knows? But she’s dead, so who cares about her? The point is, you’re here, and you’re stuck with whatever aftermath she left you with, and long story short, two questions. One, is she the only person you have feelings for, and two, are you anatomically correct?”

Geist blinked. “Door, I have absolutely no doubt that you already regret that second question—”

“And you wouldn’t be wrong!”

“—but the answer is no.”

“Oh thank God.”

“As for your first question,” Geist said slowly, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Door replied.

“I mean…”

Geist trailed off. He paced to a tree and leaned against it, pressing his back into the trunk. As he stared into the forest canopy, he searched through database after database to find the right words, and when he spoke, it was even slower, as if he was jumping from syllable to syllable like stepping stones through a creek.

“Door, I can only remember three years of my history. In that time, I’ve only had meaningful contact with a handful of people. You and Blair are too young, Belle and Starr are criminals, Opal—as fond as I am of her—doesn’t interest me, and Amanita, besides being rather old and uninterested in romantic pursuits in general, was my _employer_. It wouldn’t be right to hold that sort of relationship with _her_.”

“Cool, but that’s not what I mean,” Door said.

It was Geist’s turn to look at her strangely. Arms crossed, head tilted, eyebrows furrowed, he said, “Well … what _do_ you mean then?”

Door shrugged. “I mean don’t you look at someone and think they’re cute?”

“Cute?”

“I don’t know. Nice to look at.” Door rubbed the back of her head as she frowned. “I mean … if you look at someone, do you feel all warm and fuzzy, and does your heart kinda—”

Geist quirked an eyebrow, stopping Door in her tracks.

“Oh. Right,” she said. Then, she whipped her hands out in front of her, palms pushing towards the ground. “Okay. So maybe the signs will be different for you, but you’ll know them when you see them, just like how you’re saying you feel something for my great aunt. Does that make sense?”

Her Companion remained silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say. It was more that this … this wasn’t an answer he had expected. He held onto Door’s every word, turning each over in his cores one by one.

“But the important thing is, though, that whatever you’re feeling, it’s for someone other than my great aunt,” Door added. “That’s how you’ll know for sure. If you start feeling something for someone else, then it’s real, got it? It’s not just some fluke or something my great aunt cooked up. It’s _you_.”

After a moment’s silence, Geist said, “You know … I wasn’t expecting this.”

Door pulled her head back in a subtle gesture of shock. “What _were_ you expecting?”

Pushing off the tree, Geist smirked, shrugged, and sauntered back to Door’s side. “For you to tell me that I’m a machine, so therefore, I can’t possibly feel anything real.”

Exhaling through stretched lips, Door reached up and patted Geist on the shoulder. “Well … first and foremost, I might have a thing or two to say about Companions, but if one comes along I happen to think _might_ be half-decent, then I’m going to say that Companion should get to do whatever he wants. So, you know, it’s okay to explore and figure out who you are and stuff. Maybe you might even prove a lot of people wrong about what Companions can do, yeah? So whatever it is you like—guys, girls, Companions, or whatever—if you have any questions … just shoot, okay?”

“Okay.” Geist couldn’t help but smile. Genuinely, even.

Door smirked and patted his shoulder. “Also, I’d rather you go and explore yourself and whatever than live with the knowledge that you could’ve been my great aunt’s sex bot.”

And there went the smile. “ _Door._ ”

She released his shoulder and held her palms towards him. “Hey, you never know.”

“Actually, given the fact that I’ve retained almost all of my basic programming, none of which pertains to servicing humans in _that_ way, I can safely say that I was not.”

Door cocked her head to the side. “I can’t tell if that was more than or exactly what I wanted to know.”

Geist straightened, tugging at the edges of his jacket. He was starting to feel himself slip back into step, back into the role of Door’s protector and guide.

“Well,” he said, “perhaps it’s best not to think about it. Shall we head back?”

“Yeah.” Door nodded. “Yeah, okay, probably for the best.”

As they started along their way, Geist watched his charge out of the corner of his eye. She fell into step beside him, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly as she went, and Geist smiled again at the familiar sight. As rough and rude as Door was sometimes, he couldn’t think of anyone he would rather have as his user. After all, who else would be okay with a Companion learning the ins and outs of the heart they shouldn’t have?

It was strange, though. A week ago, he would never had guessed that Door would be that person. But maybe some things changed for the better, slowly but surely.

Which meant, in the end, he had a lot to think about … and he was okay with that.

“Thank you,” Geist said. “For your advice.”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Door replied.

“That isn’t troubling you, is it?” Geist asked. “The idea that I might … well. Question myself a bit from here on out.”

“I said it wouldn’t, and I meant that.”

“Then what’s on your mind?”

Door groaned for a bit, then slowed her pace. “When you said Blair was open-minded … did you mean she … you know?”

Geist gave her a soft smile. Some things, he thought, didn’t change at all.


End file.
